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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178898">Immortals</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloying_Acrid/pseuds/Cloying_Acrid'>Cloying_Acrid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst and Feels, Assassination Attempt(s), Banter, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Character Death, Character Study, Class Differences, Dark Magic, Developing Friendships, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Elves, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff and Smut, Forced Prostitution, Genocide, Hallucinations, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Multi, Multiple Perspectives, Nature Magic, Old Gods, Original Character Death(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, References to Depression, Religion, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, Some Humor, War, Work In Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:40:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178898</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloying_Acrid/pseuds/Cloying_Acrid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Walls stand mute, water awaits the call of the wind to ruffle and move as molten glass of deepest green. Grey stone rises from the land, unapologetic and bold to defy entrance and protect what has been entrusted to their care. Below the uneven patches of grass are arrowheads still with the stain of ripped flesh. Hilts of broken swords and armour that failed to protect. Light shone through the wintry branches, shadowy arms stretching across the ancient ruins. What was left stood in spite of itself, defying gravity in its precarious way. Yet, this place, kept secret by the trees, was safe. Beneath the chorus of the birds the voices of old can be heard, the clash of metal on metal and the pounding of horses hooves. Norah stands where knights stood, seeing what kings, dukes and peasants saw. In this pale light, were it not for the tell tale signs of weathering, it could be almost any century in the past two thousand years.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It’s All Forgotten Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first work to be posted so please bear with me as I try and figure out how to write. I’m always trying to improve so if you’d like to comment a suggestion go for it! My schedule is all over the place so I can’t promise  when updates will appear, spontaneously most likely. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The scene remained the same, dark, naked and cold. I feel paralysed, too afraid to face this hell any longer. I cling to the floor beneath me. Despite the ashen embers licking and scorching away at my fingers, blemished nails continue to desperately claw away at the ash. Although this false hope is all that's keeping me from going insane, I sense myself slipping further and further towards death; a cold embrace to soothe the flames beneath my palms. Can you not see? Can you not feel as I do? Only the stomach-turning silence is enough to make me weep and beg for this sweet release. Oh the silence, the deafening silence! Seeping into my brain, my very core! I can hear it. Deeper and deeper. Louder and louder, punctuating the silence like roaring thunder on a calm evening. The sound of my own screams. Oh, let me leave. I cannot carry on. Let me depart from this hellish grip of falsehood and affliction. Bestow upon me the great liberty of ridding my mind of these corrupt memories that forever cling to my being. Rid me of my selfish desires, only if it means that I will escape from this pain.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My screams echo around me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though the usefulness of my thoughts evaporated into dust some time ago, my mind continues to fill with voices to block out the horrible, dreaded silence. I'm going to die, there is no way out. I need to escape. I'm too weak. I'm going to die. Shut up! Hands gripping fistfuls of my mopped hair, nails scrape and claw away at my scalp. The feel of liquid spreading into the ash is warm but unbearable. I need to escape, must escape! The pounding in my head has gotten worse. It feels as if my brain will split in two. I'll do anything to escape this tortures pain. Anything, anything at all! But my manic prayers seem to have received an answer. A dim light appears above me which, thankfully, provides a distraction from my splitting headache and bleeding scalp. Peering up at the pathetic source of light above, a flickering bulb hanging from the invisible roof of endless darkness. It's dangling switch is too high up to pull for any regular person. Curious, why is it so high up anyway? Scanning my surroundings, it seems the light bulb has not done a very good job of brightening the room up. The tunnels of darkness seem to travel on forever, no matter where I look. For so long I thought myself blind before the bulb came to life, my ears being my only salvation as I depended on them with my life. The sudden creeping fear of my eyes being gouged out slithers into my throbbing brain. To lose my own sight, never to witness colour or the features of someone's face again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A sharp blade, soaked to the hilt with layers of blood and sliced flesh, slowly making its way to those eyes of mine. Tracing the thin layer of pale skin edging towards my pupil, closer and closer. STAB! STAB! Stabbing away at my eyeball until it becomes soap-like in consistency! Shut up! I don't want to hear it anymore! That won't happen shut up! My stinging fingers reach up to my eye sockets, their still there, good. . . The echoing of footsteps numbs my body, sticking to the mauled and stained floor. The hairs on my neck stand tall. My heart thumps at an unnatural pace, my widened eyes land on the hunched silhouette. Even in the dim-lit room, I can somehow make out his figure and whatever little features he has. From the way his body is built I can tell that he is male, his abnormal height and posture made him even more threatening than any regular man. His attire consists of a dark brown cloak that is drenched in burgundy stains. I can only assume that its blood. Unfortunately, his face is masked by the long hood that attaches to the ragged cloak he wears.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Suddenly, he stops in his tracks, the echoing footsteps cease and a painful silence wafts around the dim room. Silence again. Enough with the fucking silence I can't stand it! My shaking fingers fumble with one another in pure fear. My bottom lip begins to quiver letting out a whimper of terror. Taking a better look at my trembling fingers, I notice at what an absolute mess they are. My nails are chipped and broken from my previous frantic clawing. Dried crimson blood stains the underneath of what used to be my fingernails, naked flesh floods with the oozing liquid. Throughout my desperate attempt to dig away at the floor, five of my nails had completely split and cracked open.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The gory sight makes me nauseous — gagging when my eyes land on the horrendously abused and bruised flesh. Under the broken nail was a mix between multiple shades of red; to add to the horror a swollen patch of purple and black has started forming at the base of the nail. Blood spills down from the rips and cuts and cascades down my fingers. My vision is blurry, I find I am unable to see properly again. Blinking twice the warm saltwater leaks from my eyes and down my cheeks. I can't breathe it's too painful, there's a pain in my chest that I cannot ignore, a horrifyingly tight clutch to my heart that renders my body into a shivering mess. I have no choice but to swallow the thick lump of disgusting bile that has been stuck in my throat. Grinding my teeth together, my eyes shut tight, so tight that they might explode. My sticky blood-soaked fingers grasp my head, choking down a cry I seek for any type of closure from the explosive pain. Gasping at the sound of a rasping chuckle, my head shoots up. Oh, how that laughter slices through the horrid silence. How long have I have been trapped here? Alone, nothing to hear but my own hammering heartbeat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My mouth goes dry at the sight of the monstrously tall man, who is now only a couple of feet away from me. The man's appearance had changed completely from his previous dishevelled form. His body is bent in a painful manner, a sharp spine sticks out from his arched back. He had a set of two large pointed horns. They grew from the sides of his head, just above his ears, twisting with a curl around his face, and ending just a few inches away from his jaw. His body is heavily scarred and burned. Instead of regular hands, he possesses peaked knife-like claws. His piercing gaze travels to mine. He laughs again. The voice of a demon. The beast gave a sly smile, his eyes watching with such blissful pleasure. He groans hungrily and his feet arch upwards with his body lowering, he looks as if he is ready to pounce. I am not a person in his eyes, simply a lump of flesh that he wishes to sink his teeth into, livestock. I must look so helpless to him, small and defencelessness. Very easy to kill. The thought makes me shake. His wide smile unveils his fangs. Sweat coursed down my forehead and back, emitting a putrid stench that clings to my skin. His massive body hurtles toward me. He runs like a rabid dog on all fours. His large claws create small, shining sparks as they scratch against the floor. I make a distressed attempt to turn and run. My movements are not quick enough to escape him and a large hand keeps me in place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I let out a shrilling scream. His whole hand stretches around my small neck without a problem and squeezes my windpipe with tremendous force. With a strangled croak I dig whatever's left of my fingernails into the flesh of his wrists, trying to dislodge him. My teeth grit so hard that it feels as if they might break. The battle to get away is slipping away. I gulp and gasp for breath. My scratches become frantic and pained. Causing my remaining fingernails to chip off completely. They sting at the cool sensation of air, which I so desperately crave at this moment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My helpless cries echo off the dark walls of the room. Stop it please, stop! I kept silently begging and pleading in my mind as my voice was useless at this point. My screams are from pure and primal terror, though my ears are turning deaf from them now. Without a conscious thought, my legs start writhing furiously, uneven and wild. Is this how I die? My face turns a sickening ghostly white, my sight starts to tunnel and close. Am I to die here at the hands of a crazed demon? His hand around my neck must be bruising it black and blue by now. Thick drool runs down my chin. A repulsive crack from my abused throat makes me squawk and heave. My lungs ache for air, causing my eyes to bulge out of their sockets. Someone, anyone, please save me from this dreadful pain. I don't care who. Help me cure my selfish ways and remake the world as it started. Yes, I will die, but I will be born once again! I wish to embrace this terrible sin of death, but not by this barbarian, not him! He stares intensely at me with soulless dark eyes. . . and then just starts laughing. He clenches his other hand into a fist and hammers it down into my cheek. My head is flung to the side from the force of the punch. He takes pleasure in my painful expression. Raising his fist again he pounds it down to the side of my head, making my ears ring for a couple of seconds. It's so painful. Just finish it already. . .</em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I wondered, the same as thee, what sin has God found in mine soul that I has't not repented for? That He should lay such an affliction, at which I did remain loyal to His cause.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His hand unclenches and his claws travel to my naval, grasping tightly to my shirt, which proceeds to be ripped off my body. He slowly caresses and circles my belly, groaning with disgust. Groping my side, the demon presses down into the gap between two of my ribs. I heave out spit and blood, he bites my stomach and chews off a thin layer of skin. Soon, his claws strike away at flesh and muscle, swiping and slashing. Blood flows from my gut and sprays down onto his body. My screeching and wailing only fuel his action of mauling my stomach. My soaked skin sticks to his claws.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm going to die. . .</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fluid gushes from my torn abdomen. Pink intestines collapse to the ground and land with a 'Squish!' They hang out of my abdomen and my screams soon sound like a drowning cat, gargled, muffled, distressed. Dark pupils roll back into my head as my vision darkens completely.</em><br/>
<em>The silence has returned, the silence of death. It reaches across time and space, devouring anything in its path. Its silence is deafening, once more.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>At which hour thy blood spills, and mine soldiers bringeth to the altar, I shall regain the blade which murder'd me. A blade that shall hunt foes of our Lord. To destroy everything He did take from me.</em> </strong>
</p><p>The beeping of my alarm clock startles me from my nightmare. My cheeks are wet with tears and my body quivers, soaked with cold sweat. The sheets are twisted and tangled around my limbs, probably because I was thrashing in my sleep, which I have been told I do quite frequently. My heart is painfully beating against my chest. Bringing my hands up to my mouth I can feel just how warm and uneven my breath is. I bang my fist onto the snooze button on my alarm clock, stopping the annoyingly loud sound in its tracks. Throwing the sheets to one side I sprint towards the bathroom door. Fumbling with the light switch for a few seconds I finally manage to turn it on. Squinting my eyes at the sudden brightness I make my way to the oval-shaped mirror. Placing both of my hands upon the moon white sink I itch to see my normal reflection staring back at me, and not a mauled and strangled corpse in return. To my relief, my normal self stares back at me. My ragged hair stuffed into a messy plat that spills down my back. My deep eyes have shadowed purple bags underneath them from the restless night's sleep. Here stands Norah Evans, in all my disheveled glory.</p><p>Sighing in relief, I lower my head smiling in the solace my mind now basks in. It felt good to be awake.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>Kieran Chuan was a small boy. So scrawny and thin his ribs stuck out from under his shirt. He wasn't underfed or malnourished and ate well at the dinner table, but no matter how much he ate he never seemed to gain any weight.</p><p>The boy was born in Taiwan, within the capital of Taipei. He moved with his parents and younger sister when he was five years old. They moved around a lot, for his father’s work. His mother hated it, well, she hated everywhere that wasn’t Taiwan. Anywhere they lived was wrong for her; not enough space, too quiet, too loud, too little amount of windows and rooms, it was cold, unbearably hot, the people weren’t right, “They’re always looking at me, always. I hate going out there it’s awful. Oh darling! I’m trying to be positive but it’s so hard! Nobody want’s to know me here, nobody at all.” She would always pin a large amount of significance on every little thing. Like how people would look at her. It’s why she didn’t go out that often. She’d lounge on the terrace on hot days, lighting cigarette after cigarette muttering to herself despondently, “We’ve been stranded,” she’d cry into the empty sky, “Why didn’t I get away? I should have — should have left and cried ‘Don’t leave me!’ But there were no arms around me, nobody to hold me. Nobody, nobody! Does no one care for appearances these days? Oh, to be young again, when I could just throw on any old dress and be worshipped — to be the crown jewel in a rhinestone party. Not like how it is now, I’m still wonderful yet nobody tells me so!” Kieran thought her quirks were overly dramatic and that it just came with her sensitive nature. But she would always tell him that he took after her.</p><p>They then moved to Denmark. Giving him the distraction to make new friends and venture out into his strange new surroundings; which in all honestly he barely ever did. After living in Denmark for two years, they were moving around once again, celebrating his thirteenth birthday alone as usual. He still tried to practise German from time to time.</p><p>Anyone that had ever laid eyes on him could clearly see that he was a weak and fragile boy, who's skin might crumble and shatter from even the softest touch; it had always annoyed him.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>His parents never seemed to notice him, not unless his grades were dropping. He was at least thankful that they didn't live in a large city anymore. The filth and dark corners had always frightened him as a child, he feared that a monster would pop out and attack him at any waking moment.</p><p>No, what he enjoyed was how the falling of leaves would flutter down from the large trees, sparse in the cool air. And the warm sun would bid farewell to the sweet summer blossoms and beckon the crisp autumn in.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>These days his shoes had no grip. The pavement was always wet and the threat of rain loomed in the evenings. Mornings were dim and cold. Walks to the bus stop were slow. September was ending.</p><p>As the days wane, the night came close in and the trees abandon their vibrant hues. A chill creeps into the air. Not the bite of wintry bluster, but just a nip to let him know a new season was at hand, his favourite season. The boring and plain roads lit by the first rays of the day, shining through a thin layer of grey cloud like a stain glass window. No more are the trees their virescent hues of spring and summer. But are an array of scarlets and golds.</p><p>In just a few weeks the trees will stand naked in the frozen air, bereft of their gaiety. Already the usual grey of the concrete pavement is adorned with their transient beauty. As he walks to the bus stop once again in his oversized brown coat. He would always deliberately tread on each one of the leaves to hear the crunch.</p><p>Just ahead, a leaf tumbles from its weary branch, it twists and rocks as it falls through the almost still air.</p><p>Autumn was his favourite season, it felt long and blissful, like a distant dream he once had as a child. But as he grew he realised this bliss never lasted long enough, as school was constantly on his mind. The straining pressures of grades and studying lay heavily on his shoulders. It latched to his brain like a tumour, constantly reminding him that if he ever were to fail, it would swell and break his mind.</p><p>His father would come home from hard days, bringing back mountainous stacks of paperwork. He’d bang his fist on the table in his room very often when he got frustrated, too much stress. Then his mother would go to him and kiss his cheeks softly, peppering them down his throat and to his chest. “Not now,” He’d always say. She would complain, bright red lips pouting — her perfume stinking up the room. Kieran saw her once, after school, outside of a restaurant. Large red lights hung above her; although many were dim and flickering they still tried to shine like all of the others in the area. She was talking to a man with a dazzling movie star smile. Pressed suit and combed hair. She giggled girlishly at something he’d said and let herself fall into his arms. His hands were quick to smooth over her waist, feeling the fabric of her clothes, wondering only to what lay underneath them. His fingers sneaked under her skirt, greedily pinching and groping the flesh there. So warm, so needy, so willing. She let her eyes blissfully close, grinding herself to the man’s front. She started laughing again. Kieran walked away. Pretending that it had never happened.</p><p>He had no idea what to do. Could he do anything about how he was mistreated and targeted? He marked those bullies in school as arrogant and crude. He was right of course, but it never stopped their rancid laughter and cruel remarks. They were never punished though, Kieran was left alone.</p><p>Wanted to speak, wanted to scream, shout at someone, anyone about his problems. But he held his temper as his father taught him to. However, it was not just cruel remarks now, it was something more.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>Autumn seemed to pass by so quickly now, already the trees were stripped of their flaming leaves and fresh, white snow covered the streets.</p><p>He often wondered about his mother and that man. He’d tried to forget. Like all the other things he’d hear through walls. “You remember when you first met me? I was so beautiful then. You remember don’t you? I remember it very well. We were outside of the opera house, then you snuck me away for a dance. We danced all night. You held me so tight under those flashing lights, sweet serenity! I felt so happy when I was with you, so safe and warm.” It always started romantic, so bashful and nostalgic for the both of them. Kieran tried to stop listening after that. “You showed me such passion! Passion that I’d never thought could exist.” She’d babble on, then retracted. “No! I’m selfish, so selfish. Let me forget, love, I want you to hold me again. I never want to remember, it’s killing me!” His father would silence her, telling her that she was still a precious thing in a ugly world. She lapped it up like it was the only thing she needed. Then she was loud — like hail against rooftops she could not be ignored. That devotion she’d always craved was found there, in Kieran’s father, and the man with the dazzling smile. Or whoever else there might be, Kieran suspected many others. “Let me die like this!” She cried as he took her, wanton and wild she wrapped herself tightly around him. Kieran prayed for it to be over.</p><p>And when it finally was, she began to weep.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>Spring was quick to arrive again, the trees flowered and bloomed; lush with ripe fruits and pink petals. Kieran found that his life would never be an exciting one, he would have to live a normal, boring life like everyone else in his family. But at this point, he had stopped caring.</p><p>___________________________________</p><p>He left on an average Saturday morning, with a thick blue book in hand and escaped to explore the lake next to the forest once again. This was the only adventurous thing he could do anyway.</p><p>He never realised how large the forest actually was. He never was one to venture out into the unknown, not that he didn't want to, but he had an annoying fear of new things which got in the way of the audacious life he secretly craved. He felt safe in his own environment, surrounded by certain smells that reminded him of when he was young; and certain sounds that could calm his anxious thoughts.</p><p>However, this curiosity was painful and controlling. The urge was pulling and suffocating. Strangely, he had never seen anyone else around the lake or forest; despite how beautiful and mysterious it was. He expected a large number of tourists to invade the peaceful land, but not a single soul ever wandered. To be honest he preferred it that way. Today was supposed to be like any other, he would sit by the lake, read his book and then go home before it got dark. But today was not like any other day. His focus was not towards his book, but towards the forest.</p><p>It was insane, dangerous, and who knows what could lie within. However, despite all of these thoughts gushing within Kieran's head, he longed, no, craved to see what made the forest so tempting. The urge was so strong, it made his belly pool with painful heat. Suddenly his shoe brushed against something solid, a rock half buried in mud jutted out from the earth. The top half was eroded by what seemed like many years of rainfall; though faint letters can be made out, the sentence was cut off when the stone met soil. Thankfully, the grass and earth were wet from the weather, Kieran felt silly for wanting to thank the rain for making his task easier. Pushing the stone, both palms flat on its damp surface, he felt the roots give way and snap under the strain.</p><p>Some worms wriggled around atop the stone, disturbed that they'd been forcefully surfaced from the ground. Kieran winced offering them a small apology, setting them back into the mud. Tracing the words carefully he scooped up any dirt that hid the letters beneath with his nail and flicked it away. When he finally read the entire message he felt chilled. The warning was efficiently engraved and it had clearly been meant to steer people clear of the woods.</p><p>'The water in this lake is a source of valorous health. The land hither is the birthplace of the Mistress of the Other Realm. Taketh mine own words as a warning. Mend thy soul. Ere thee venture into the plagu'd trees. Sinful men doth not returneth. Beware of the strange folk, they art command'd by, and gage loyalty to, the Mistress. Nay, mortal men cannot slay the strange folk.'</p><p>He tried to control his lungs by making his breaths long and deep, but they only came out as rough and heavy rasps that sounded like somebody tearing apart paper. His eyes were hazed and laced with temptation. His legs felt weightless and weak as if his body had suddenly forgotten how to walk. They moved on their own, wobbling and slowly striding toward the forest. The trees were beckoning him over, strangling his brain with curiosity that he could not ignore. Whispers of a forgotten language found their way inside the small boy's ears.</p><p>Kieran's mouth was slightly agape with his eyelids occasionally falling over his clouded, dark pupils. The closer he got the more he was lost. His grip loosened on the book causing it fall to the ground, lying in the morning dew filled grass. He mindlessly stumbled into the thick wood with his senses now long forgotten. Hot tears filled his eyes, and without a single blink, pooled and cascaded down his cheeks.<br/>
The pain in his chest and stomach was brutal as if someone were stirring and clawing away at his intestines with a fork. Soon his eyes were sopping like a wet rag, puffy and red. The mist closed around him, covering his body like a thin, grey vail. Stumbling and tripping through the damp mud, he wandered deeper into the dark wood, his mind blank of thoughts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fancy Our Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fancy their meeting, two souls so different and quaint. Poor naïve girl, her own mother she could not remember. The boy sick with churning whispers in his head. At first he tried to withstand it, but this only aggravated the forest with inhuman cruelty, and faster and more furious fell the chanting — like blows to his brain. She comes to him as if his screams open another wooded path, to walk without fear in the hope to heal.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Things will hopefully get interesting soon! No solid update schedule but I will attempt to get chapters out as soon as possible &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Blood stain'd her hands, a reminder cruel and simple, so she couldst nev'r escape from the guilt of her past.</strong>
</p><p>Norah's eyes shot open, her brows knitting together. She glanced around, only to find that she had dozed off underneath a tree that she came across after breakfast. She fidgeted and bit at her nails. What did that dream mean? As she wiped the sweat from her brow, she thought back to the immense dream and shuddered quietly.</p><p>Today, at this moment, the woodland seemed ominously quiet. She paused, listening to the sound of her own erratic breathing, and took deep breaths allowing her heart slow. Her nerves were eased by the susurration of the leaves in the wind. She became transfixed by the myriad of fluttering leaves that danced in the high boughs. It was as if the trees were speaking to one another. Norah wondered what type of conversations trees could have, and how long they could talk for; days, weeks, or maybe even years?</p><p>Upon the forest floor that she lay, lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The previous seasons had been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers of the trees, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. They have the appearance of driftwood, twisting in patterns that reminded Norah of seaside waves; even the colour of the moss is a dark green and almost kelp-like, which feels soft and damp to the touch. Tilting her head up again, feeling her hair tumble further down her back — causing it to stick to the damp bark below. She smiles as distant birdsong comes in small lulls and bursts, the shuffling leaves and singing working together as well as any improvised melody. Her smile extents upon her freckled face, lips semi-illuminated by the dappled light. Calm is the forest right after the dawn light has kissed the colours into being. Just being here brings her soul into sweet surrender, at one with nature, vibrant yet relaxed. Every fragrance is fresh, like the page of a newly published book. Each burst of birdsong is unique, a live chorus to waken the mind, to shake off whatever sleepiness remains. Thoughts wander, lungs fill, time rolls by ever silent and endless.</p><p>But then, out of the soft melody of swaying leaves and lulling birdsong, a desperate cry arose. Out of complete reverence, the things and creatures of the woods stilled to listen. Like a budding flower it started. Slow and gentle but it rose to a wail that tore at Norah's heart; it was only a single voice crying out in total sorrow, alone and afraid. It was like every sound in the universe hushed in suspense, every heart shattering in grief. When it hit her ears, Norah's throat clenched. She felt a weight of sorrow press her into the dirt in which she knelt. Her mind clouded, her poor heart grew cold and numb with bottled up emotion. It was as if she could feel the pain of the broken cry in herself. She stood up and her stomach twisted painfully, the same could be said about her heart, which felt like it was caught in her throat at the minute.</p><p>"Hello?" She called out, voice cracking. She wasn't really expecting a reply but hoped for the best. The cry seemed human enough, but no humans ever came into the forest, they wouldn't dare. Or so she had been told. The cry had changed into hiccuping sobs now. Norah couldn't ignore this as her good nature always got the best of her. Determined to find the source of the weeping voice, she ran through the trees and deep into the woods, trying to avoid squishing any flowers or plants as she went by.</p><p>                        ___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope. The lost boy sank to his knees, not caring for the mud that dirtied his trousers. Kieran had always been so self-conscious about when he cried, but now he just gave way to the enormity of his sadness. He sobbed into his hands and tears dripping between his fingers, raining down onto the dark soil. His breathing was ragged, he was afraid of having another asthma attack; even if it hadn't happened in years. He was noisy, his sensitive skin was blotched but there was no one there to witness it let alone come to comfort him. He could run a mile in any direction and not find another soul. He was completely alone, the loneliness he felt at school was nothing compared to this. Why? He thought to himself. Why did I come to this horrible place? What's wrong with me?!</p><p>He gripped his head and wailed louder.</p><p>His lips trembled and his teeth clattered with fear. He wanted to go home, to his family. He wanted to lie on his bed and cuddle his plump cushions. He wanted his books and sketch pads along with the warm comfort of his blankets. He wanted his comfy PJs and small night light which he used to read when it got dark. He came to remind himself of the smallest things in his home, and then he realised, deep in the cursed forest, that he had taken all those things for granted. But it was too late. Now he had nothing, no books or sketch pads or warm blankets, no comfy PJs or his small reading light; he had nothing, nothing at all.</p><p>"Hey, what's the matter?" A soft voice cooed above him. Kieran jumped back and scrambled towards a tree, not bothering to look back. Though, because of his brilliant luck, he tripped and fell flat on his face. He grumbled into the dirt and shakily lifted himself up from the ground. A gentle hand caressed his hair which stopped the boy in his stumbling tracks. No one had bothered to touch him affectionately in a long time. He occasionally got the odd pat on the back by his father or a hug from his mother and sister, but never anything so soft as this touch. It startled him, making his mouth go dry and his eyes burn with hot tears. He shivered as the slim hand slowly caressed and circled his head. Oh, how he longed for more of that sweet touch. Kieran suddenly cursed internally at his weird thought. Stupid brain.</p><p>He looked up at her as she pulled her as she extended her hand out. The long ringlets of her hair spilled over her back and shoulders like a bouquet of roses. Her face was aglow with kindness. The rays of light that peaked out from the trees above shone brighter than before; illuminating the girls' form. Kieran studied her face carefully. Pink lips with a concerned smile latched upon them. Her face was quite plump and rounded, not yet cut into adulthood, although the soft look of her apple cheeks made his heart jump slightly. Her eyes were a striking hazel, (which reminded him of his wooden family lodge back in Denmark.) Her nose and cheeks were plastered in freckles that spread in a line from both sides of her face. They reminded him of stars in the night, so close they seem, but forever out of reach from anything or anyone. She was. . . strange, he didn't know why. Otherworldly almost, like a character from a book he once read, or maybe an old dream even; he didn't know.</p><p>"Are you lost?" She questioned him again. She was speaking to him, this girl who outshone every beautiful thing that Kieran had ever seen was actually speaking to him. Her voice so innocent but smooth. A gentle voice that you would expect from an angel or a saint. Kieran wanted to speak, and even opened his mouth to try, but no words were spoken. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed and he slowly backed away from the girl. She was too perfect, too beautiful, there was no way that she could be real. He felt unworthy.</p><p>"Oh! No, please don't go!" She waved her hands awkwardly and flashed Kieran an anxious smile.<br/>
"I'm not going to hurt you — um," her arms cross and her head lower, she was deep in thought.</p><p>"I-I'm Kieran, Kieran Chuan." He squeaked like a mouse, making his face flush bright red. His embarrassment caused fresh gleaming tears to peak in the corners of his eyes. The girl seemed to perk up at his words and she stared curiously at him, tilting her head like an owl. She huffed through a laugh and smiled from ear to ear. Kieran's heart leaped as their eyes met. Strangely, he thought that he spotted a hint of recantation in those mischievous orbs of dark brown bark. As if they had known each other before, perhaps in another life. </p><p>"I'm Norah, Norah Evans," her eyebrow raised slightly and she sat herself down on the muddy path in front of him. "So, what are you doing here?"</p><p>He stared at her blankly, thinking of words to say. Her question had left him frozen and stiff, 'What are you doing here?' He didn't even know. Why was he here, in this place, at this time? His face reddened by her guiltless study of his person.</p><p>"I'm not sure to be honest. I don't really know where I am." He laughed uneasily. She remained silent.</p><p>"I- I was only trying to..." To what, what's even going on? The strain in his stomach twisted again, making his legs shake and wobble. A cold breeze ran through the forest, awakening the leaves from their silent sleep. They hissed and rustled loudly, like a cat slitting back at a looming threat. Kieran's limbs felt sore and weak from the freezing wind and the oncoming thrumming headache. Suddenly he could hear it. Voices. The chanting of the high thick branches right down to the spiralling roots hidden under the dark earth. It grew louder and louder, filling his ears with poisonous whispers. Distant echoes of an incoherent language came about in throngs of sound. Kieran made the conclusion that stepping into the forest robbed you of one sense, but heightened the others. His eyes bulged and his head started to throb. He wanted to vomit, he could feel the lump of hot bile attempting to claw its way out of his stomach and into his mouth. Something needed to escape. Whether it was the sick in his belly, the chanting in his ears or even something utterly different; like an emotion that's been swelling inside for too long just writhing to be released. All Kieran knew was that it needed to leave him, immediately.</p><p>But he was too weak to even attempt to help it. All he could do was let the tears fall and drain from his bloodshot eyes. He wanted home. Home was where he felt safe, his own sanctuary full of comforts and nostalgic objects. His head bobbed as he wheezed, letting out a fast hiccuping sob. His nose dripped with watery snot and his tears cascaded down to his neck — straining the collar of his vest.</p><p>Why had he come here? Could it have been the forest? That looked so unreal and beautiful, yet dark and manipulative?</p><p>Or had he been pulled blindly into this place by this girl? This girl that stood in front of him with such a concerned gleam in her dark eyes. She spoke, but he could not hear her voice. The girl, Norah as she had previously mentioned, made sounds that could have been her voice, but sounded more like music under a summer breeze, almost lost against the noise of the loud chanting in his ears. Yet somehow it took ahold of Kieran, making him want to listen all the more. O and such a sweet sound it was. Any man would kill so hear such a sound. To hear it as it carried you off into oblivion, away to the void, the cold space that cradled you as it's new child. And to only have the recollection of the sound of a voice that could make spirits weep and wail to keep you sane throughout your endless floating throughout the black abyss of death.</p><p>"Hey, stay with me!" Kieran thought he heard her say, his head felt like a massive balloon ready to burst and he could barely concentrate on anything now. With his legs finally giving in to his exhaustion, he fell into a pair of long and lanky arms. He could feel a warm body pressed up against his, it was soothing, calming. Was he at home? Had it all been a dream? Had it all been a nightmare? But could a nightmare have given birth to such a beautiful creature such as Norah? Inching his nose a little closer to her neck, Kieran breathed in her scent; which was nothing at all like the smell of his mother, who always had that stinging waft of cheap perfume about her person. In fact, Norah's scent was much more like that of a flower, heavy with morning dew. Or perhaps even the smell of a bakery. His stomach clenched with hunger at the thought of sweet honey rolls. He could imagine the warm, fluffy bun dripping with amber-coloured liquid, looking absolutely divine in the rays of sun peeking out from the bakery windows. But food quickly flashed away from his mind as he studied Norah's widened eyes.</p><p>Dear lovely looking Norah, was she here to take him to Heaven? Was she his angel sent from above. Oh, how she looked so far away, she was out of his reach. She danced on stars and skipped on the moon, the light of the sky made her glow and shine, his angel, his Norah.</p><p>                      ___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>"No! Don't you dare be dead!" Norah stuttered. Kieran had stumbled and wobbled towards her, looking like he had lost all of his senses at once. She had asked him if he was alright but his answer was caught in his own throat.</p><p>"Come on, dying in the dirt isn't something you accept." He had lost all the peach and pink from his skin. His veins popped out from his wrists and neck painfully as if his blood was trying to slither out from his body. She feared from his paleness that his heart had suddenly stopped. With all of his organs turning to dust inside of his body. He swayed for just a moment before Norah caught him and lowered him to the ground.  Ashen-faced, he clung to Norah's white sweater. His lips were puffed out and the skin was peeling and flaking off around the edges of his mouth. She held him close and put a hand to his forehead. He was boiling hot. He lies there so still as his skin radiates the heat from his blood. His soft skin glows in the worst way and his limbs fall limply when he raises them. Kieran was surrounded by air but none of it was doing him any good. As if someone had put a bag over his head. He fights to get the air back into his weak lungs, however, he finds that his body works against him, closing off the airways he so desperately needs.</p><p>The pale look of the boy reminded Norah of Evelyn. She is a shy and awkward girl at best. Her body is angular and puny, almost skeletal like. Her eyes remind Norah of big, gemstones that shine and gleam in sunlight. Her hair is cut short, small pools of black strands caressing her face and jaw. Her lips are thin and seem to hold no redness or lustre, with only the slightest gleam from the excessive amount of chapstick she wore. Her face small, narrow and slim. Her skin translucent making it so that anyone can make out the dark veins stretching under her wrists. Norah only wishes that Eve had more confidence in herself though. Regretfully, most people were put off by her sickly appearance, afraid that they might catch some horrid disease from the lanky girl. She'd often joke and describe herself as a cursed, wandering the great forgotten forests alone. Detaching herself from reality for only a few distant hours. Norah's heart can't help but ache for the lonesome girl.</p><p>"Help." The boy's voice spoke in a croaked tone. Weakly smiling at her, showing off his navy blue braces that kept his teeth straight. She smiled nervously back and placed a hand on his flushed cheek.</p><p>But she was not prepared for what came next.</p><p>The blood from his nose didn't run in a constant flow, but in time it started gushing from his nostrils. At first, it came thick and strong, flowing down his lips as he let out a throaty cough. Kieran felt the blood course down his chin, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. Norah was shaking while she desperately used her sleeve as a sort of tissue for the blood.</p><p>"R-right," she breathed slowly, "calm down, you'll be ok I promise! I can take you to-" But could she take him there? It was probably one of the worst places for a human to go for miles and miles. However, the mansion was surely the only place to go for medical treatment for miles and miles, and Norah found that she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She would not let this boy die, not now.<br/>
Susan would no doubt be absolutely furious with her, she could almost feel her storm-cloud looking face staring down at her even now. But she was willing to take the blame if it meant that Kieran would get seen to. No matter what Susan or anyone else there said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Kite In A Hurricane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He swallows bile and pride as the stranger touches him, frozen limbs like when his chest aches in the winter. Surrounded by strange people, some doors should stay shut. Glass breaking on the carpet, cigarette smoke fills her lungs and she tries to remember his smile.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kieran awoke with a sudden start, his breath uneven and rough. The distant lull of chirping birds murmured throughout the room. Everything seemed deathly still. But the only sound Kieran could hear was his own thrumming heartbeat pounding in his ears.</p><p>He lay in a long bed with creased white linen and scratchy covers. Surrounding his bed was a large  stained curtain that blocked his view from anything in the room. His brow furrowed, his face was painfully hot and flushed. Reaching his hand up to touch his blazing forehead he could feel just how sensitive his skin had become, even the light brush of his nails against his cheek made him whimper.<br/>
The hairs on his neck suddenly stood up and started to tingle when he heard the slow footsteps approaching the room. <em>Quick, run and find something to defend yourself with!</em><br/>
Hearing the voice of his conscience sting like ice in his ears made Kieran swallowed the swelling lump in his dry throat.</p><p>He slammed his head back down to the flat pillow, which was splattered with questionable dark blotches and shut his eyes tightly. His hand clenched and unclenched making his knuckles turn white. He couldn't help but let out a long shaky breath. Soon enough Kieran heard a door open and loudly slam shut its creaking hinges bringing a shivering chill down his spine. His skin sprouted with cold goosebumps as the footsteps grew nearer. Kieran dared not to breathe, maybe playing dead would entice the stranger to leave?</p><p><em>Oh yeah, that'll definitely work... While we're at it why don't we invite them to slit our throat too?</em> He cursed his inner thoughts.</p><p>The footsteps came to an abrupt halt, right beside the bed. His only saviour now was the faded blue curtain that created the thinnest of walls from him and the looming silhouette. His eyelids were twitching with hesitation, begging to be opened to face the stranger. The curtains were practically raked off from the metal pole above, making Kieran squeak in alarm. Keeping his eyes shut was so stupid. The stranger knew he was awake, but it was the memorable feeling of fear that clung to Kieran's chest that was keeping him from opening his eyes. He felt like a child — trying to hide the fact that they were wide awake when it was long past their bedtime, and their parent suddenly opened their bedroom door to check on them. He couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking him. His heart was racing and all he wanted was to curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save him. But no one would, no one will come. A small cry for help forced itself up his burning throat, and he felt a tear drop down his cheek, though it also could have been sweat.</p><p>"I know you're awake boy so quit pretending and open them eyes."<br/>
A voice so stern and yet polite reminded Kieran of his chemistry teacher Mr Avanue back at school. A sudden memory of a chemistry lesson with his teacher sprung into his mind. Like the time Matthew Mcderve almost burned the school down with his pathetic excuse of an acid and alkaline experiment. Kieran still wasn't sure how he'd managed it. In the end, Matthew went home with a massive grin that reached his eyes face caked in soot, and his hair and uniform reeking of smoke. Kieran might have laughed at the memory if it wasn't for his current predicament.</p><p>A hand cracked across his face snapping it back with the force of the blow and causing Kieran's head to reel sickeningly as it slammed to the floor along with his weak body.<br/>
"Get up," the man spoke above him, looming over Kieran's spread body with a disinterested expression.<br/>
When the black dots cleared from his eyes he felt his cheek burn and sting. He curled into a ball and clutched his cheek, eyes watering. He could almost hear his father's voice now.<br/>
<em>'I have my family, my wife, you, and Rebecca to look after. If I fail then what kind of man would that make me? Remember, that one day you'll have a family of your own to protect. You can't break, I never did, I stayed strong and worked hard. You've got to be strong Kieran'.</em> But how could he? It was so easy for his father to say those things when he barely knew anything about him. He was so pathetic and puny, he wasn't brave or heroic like the knights or kings that he'd read about in books. He couldn't fight anyone with his tiny hand and arms and save the damsel in distress from evil. <em>Hell, I can't even save himself, let alone a damsel.</em></p><p>"Get up," the stranger spoke again quickly this time as he watched Kieran sob. Red-hot tears ran down his face, each one carving furrows into his tender flesh; which stung from the slap.<br/>
"I said get up!" The man's large hand clutched Kieran's wrist and pulled his body up. He couldn't move. His limbs felt boneless and floppy as they were shaken around mercilessly. He fell onto the man's solid chest and rested his head there. His skin grew hot with embarrassment and he pulled away, taking a better look at the man. He had bloodshot eyes that twitched uncomfortably under his square glasses. A crooked nose that had definitely been broken more than once. And a large burn that reached from under his left ear and travelled down his neck, vanishing underneath the collar of his neatly pressed shirt. There was a heavy white coat hanging from his shoulders along with a checkered vest that covered his shirt. There were pouches and bottles secured by his thigh on a leather belt along with large syringes which made Kieran nauseous just looking at the end of the sharp needle; picturing it piercing his skin violently without a care for his comfort.</p><p>"What's the matter? Did somebody hit you? Let me help boy." The man muttered in a dazed tone. When Kieran tried to move away from the man he quickly held him in place, grabbing his waist and pulling him forwards to his chest again. Kieran squeaked and fell into the man's embrace - of sorts - and went still like a statue. Since the man was much taller than he was, it made it hard for Kieran to completely look up at him.</p><p>"Poor thing. . . poor thing." He muttered against his ear.</p><p>He lay completely petrified under the man's command his lips quivering while hands corner both of his sides. Kieran's breathing hastens, the intense rhythm of his heartbeat undergoes an irregular count, hammering faster and faster as the stranger's hands slither down his body, searching smoothly for the seam of his nightgown. Only now does Kieran realise what he is wearing and can almost feel steam coming out from his ears. The man's spidery hands squeeze Kieran's thighs tightly, clutching his skin with such a force that it made his eyes leak with more tears. He can't move. He tries and he just can't. The man bends his head down. Kieran can hear his spine crack and pop as he advanced, as if his body has not moved in decades. His mouth grazing over Kieran's flesh, breath hot and lustful against him.<br/>
"Fear is a pit isn't it boy? You've sunken to the same level I was once at, eyes just brimming with despair. Can't crawl out, you'll just sink lower, stay here." <em>Make it stop.</em> Fingers circle his thighs. <em>Please stop. </em>Lips against his skin, so sickly and wrong<em>. Stop</em>. Tongue like a hot iron tasting, teasing, head so full of lust he forgets everything. Then he stops. Listening to footsteps. The lust is gone from his mind, his desire no longer embedded in those twitching eyes.</p><p>Unexpectedly, a great force pushes Kieran back to the scratchy covers of the bed. His face was soon buried under the pillow with fright. The stranger huffed through a sly chuckle and went towards a desk with various stacks of books, documents, and letter sprawled all over the place. A precise knock on the door made Kieran jump. Are there more people?</p><p>"Come in." The stranger uttered, shaking a bottle of green liquid in his hand. The door opened revealing two women that looked equally as odd as the man did.</p><p>The first woman had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She clicked her tongue in the cold and distant way professionals do. Kieran could not relax around the quick motions and expressions she made. Her eyes a light gold, her hair a shade of warm black that is held in a painfully tight bun — not a strand out of place. Her bodice narrowed into a small waistline and her petticoat was visible through the inverted V shape at the front of the skirt. The petticoat was made from cut velvet and stood out from the rest of the dress. She practically demanded attention by everyone in the room even without saying a single word. She was a beautiful woman in most respects, but her face was much too proud and stern for Kieran's liking.</p><p>"I see our guest has finally woken up." The woman said, her lips twitching as she gazed at Kieran's quivering body.<br/>
"Tell me, <em>mortal</em>, what were your intentions in our woods?" Their woods? Kieran had no idea that anyone owned that land, or that he was in fact trespassing on it. Fear sits on Kieran like a pillow over his mouth and nose. Enough air gets by, allowing his body to keep functioning, but it's crippling all the same.<br/>
"I-I didn't know that the land belonged to anyone." He stuttered out. He didn't have the guts to look the woman in the eyes, they were too piercing, too hate-filled.</p><p>"I see," she said with a loud sigh, "Well you won't be here long, you should at least thank our good Doctor Strain for saving your life." Kieran glanced at the man, still feeling the stinging slap across his face and his quivering thighs, he only muttered a quick, 'thank you' before turning his head in embarrassment. And he actually couldn't believe that this woman had pressured him into thanking a man who, just moments ago, had been molesting him. He felt sick to his stomach.</p><p>What right do they have to treat you like this, like dirt? Sure, you might have trespassed on their land, but you caused no harm and didn't damage anything on the way either, so why should you let them speak to you like this?! Go on, stand up for yourself!</p><p>"Er, I'm sorry but where am I? And what happened to me?" Kieran questioned, suddenly feeling more confident to talk to the woman from his consciences' rant.</p><p>"Where you are is not important, but to answer your second question, you were brought here by Norah from the woods after being affected by Forest Sickness." Forest Sickness? Kieran has never heard of such a thing.<br/>
"Forest Sickness? There's no such thing." The woman did not reply but simply clicked her tongue yet again. The woman was about to speak again with a seemingly snarky remark but was stopped by a cloud of smoke reaching her nose, (which proceeded to wrinkle up in disgust).</p><p>The second woman behind her lit a cigarette, taking large puffs and exhaling with a smirk. A great lady, taller than the terrifying doctor, taller than any person Kieran had ever seen. She was forced to duck her head as she went through the doorway and Kieran swears that if he had a twin and climbed on top of their shoulders, he would still be nowhere near her height. Her hair was long — styled charmingly with a few golden clasps to keep her braids in place. She wore a long coat with an unbuttoned collar and a chain unfastened at the front; along with a dark garb with various buckles and straps underneath. Assortments of daggers fitted at her hips and a single rusted knife wrapped in red cloth on her back that was attached to a piece of leather off of her coat. It was angled in such a way that if anyone were to try and grab it from the behind she could stretch her arm back and pull the leather forward to free it from an enemy's grasp.</p><p>Her eyes were green, but not the kind of shade that's easy to describe. It was almost like they were both green and yellow, with blue creeping in around the edges — as if it were trying to take over. She blinked and the beauty was momentarily covered by a shield of eyelashes; naturally long and soft looking. She was a natural beauty, Kieran thought. Although her lips are shaped into a slight smile, Kieran could tell it was fake, and he reckons that the woman was doing it on purpose.</p><p>"C'mon Susan, you're scaring the poor kid." Her voice was so deep and smooth that it made the top of Kieran's ears prickle with warmth. But she sounded to tired, like she hadn't slept properly in days. The woman carried herself with a great gravity and was seemingly more relaxed than Susan, (who's thin eyebrows had been furrowing for a while now.)</p><p>Susan swatted the smoke away with her hand and growled at the tall woman.<br/>
"He's not even supposed to be here in the first place." Her teeth ground together as she motioned her head towards Kieran.<br/>
"This is foolish, I should never have agreed to keeping him here, we should have just left him to die in those woods. Or at least left him in a mortal hospital, not that it would have done him any good."</p><p>Mortal hospital? Kieran wondered, why did she refer to a hospital that way?<br/>
"Now, you know what a waste that would be? A shame to see him go so quickly." The doctor leaned against his desk, his eyes twitching again. Kieran shifted uncomfortably and held his own waist for stability. The tall woman's eyes narrowed and put herself between him and the doctor.<br/>
"Be that as it may, he's here with us now, and I've been bored to hell around here lately. This place could use some excitement." Her manner of speaking was so quiet, yet so profound that all talk stopped when she spoke.</p><p>"Take this seriously Alphard! If the council were to ever uncover that we willingly saved a mortals life and that we were keeping him in our sanctuary there would be dire consequences!" She was obviously annoyed and frustrated at Alphard's laid-back attitude. Her loud voice and banging foot made Kieran's head tuck down into his nightgown, much like something a frightened turtle might do.<br/>
"Not to mention the-"<br/>
"Yeah yeah who gives two shits about what the damn council thinks anyway? How would they know about any of this anyway? Won't find out as long as we keep our traps shut. Listen, I'm going to go take our wonderful guest for a grand tour of the place, I'm sure he wants to stretch those little legs after six days in bed." Kieran's eyes practically popped out of his skull.<br/>
"Six days!" He bellowed, surprisingly making Susan perk up with mild interest, her eyebrows remaining high.</p><p>Kieran's mouth fell open. In that instant his skin became greyed, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted — with eyes that were as wide as they could stretch. Six days? What about his parents? What about school?<br/>
"That's right kid, now c'mon, let's go explore a bit shall we?" Alphard lifted him up as if he were nothing, her strong arms cradling him like some sort of blushing bride.</p><p>"Alphard! I forbid you to-" it was too late. Alphard sprinted out of the room with an extremely confused Kieran in her arms, (while muttering something about how shit the mood had been around the mansion lately,) and headed towards the stairs.<br/>
"What am I going to do with her?" Susan massaged the crease in her temple and groaned.<br/>
"I could always take her skin and make it into a very nice armchair, perfect for the living room, what do you think?" Doctor Strain cackled evilly while Susan gave him an unimpressed glare.</p><p>"The boy's sweet too, soft in that way, I could always take him off your hands." Suddenly his skin began to burn, he fell to the ground clutching his neck in pain.  He whimpered as Susan's palm lit up in an orange glow — shining brighter as she poured more magic into the curse. He cried out in pain as flame licked under his bones, through his muscles, and grazing under his flesh. His cries turning into heaves as spittle foamed from his mouth.</p><p>"Don't forget your place here doctor. Be he human or immortal, he has been placed under our care and I expect you to ensure he receives a rapid recovery. The faster he heals the faster we will be rid of him. You will behave yourself within the duration of his stay." He coughed and stumbled to his knees.<br/>
"Yes ma'am, I. . . I hope his recovery will be as swift as your punishments are agonising." She nodded and the glow of her palm vanished. Strain shivered on the hard floor, his hands craving soft flesh. Susan marched towards the door and turned to him once more.</p><p>"And doctor? In the meantime you'll be letting go off some of your experiments, keep only those you deem necessary to hold on to." And with that she left him.</p><p> </p><p>___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Soon enough, Kieran found that he and Alphard had reached the first of many sets of staircases. Although Kieran still had no idea where he was, or what was happening, he was unexpectedly calm against Alphard's warm body. The decrepit staircase creaked and groaned in complaint as Alphard's feet came thumping down the ageing steps. The staircase is battered but beautiful. There's a long shamrock and golden woven carpet that covered the middle of the stairs; unravelling like a veil while trailing from the set of wooden stairs all the way to the shining marble ones.</p><p>They came to a curved corner on the marble steps and four massive geometric topped windows stood on the right-hand side. Part of the windows was stained with emerald and crimson; as they coloured in the rose petals and leaves with storks of thorns that were displayed on each pane of glass. The sunlight shone through them, lying on the tiled floor like sweet honey. The stone railing beside had engravings of various shapes that reminded Kieran of hieroglyphics or a sort of ancient Latin; either way, he couldn't make heads or tails of what they were supposed to say if it was writing at all. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Alphard smiled with her skin glowing from the warm sun shining through the window; which was creating various shapes from the dancing shadows.</p><p>"You fit to walk kid?" She asked with a final puff of smoke from the cigarette bud that rested between her sharp canine teeth. He nodded and she gently positioned his feet to the ground, making sure that he was all set to walk; and with a few tiny wobbles, he surprisingly was.</p><p>"There you go! Baby steps now kid, baby steps. Don't go overworking your body now, forest sickness is not something to be taken lightly, even for my kind."</p><p>"U-um I'm sorry but what do you mean your kind?" She had taken no notice to his question, and by that I mean she down-right ignored him, but she simply let her hand ruffle through his coal coloured hair and spat the cigarette bud out of her mouth with displeasure.</p><p>"Man, mortals make such shitty cigarette brands nowadays," she muttered taking a carton of cigarettes from her pocket and throwing them over her shoulder. "Tastes like piss if you ask me." Her foot tapped patiently. "Sorry about Susan back there, she normally acts like she's got a stick up her ass so it's no bother." Kieran flushed at her warm attitude. She was probably one of the most intimidating people that he'd met and she was being so understanding with him.</p><p>He gave a weak laugh and folded his arms around his stomach. His hands sweated with worry. The fear of the unknown latched itself on his heart. He didn't know where he was, who these strange people were, or even if he'd ever get back home again. Things he felt he should have done, coupled with his perceived failures dominated his mind. He thought about his actions and words, finding them inadequate. He felt like a moron for not standing up for himself against Joseph Hallmann or any of the other bullies in school. He could see Joseph staring down at him now, with his stupid mousey brown hair slicked back with an entire tin of gel. And his dark eyes admiring the bruises that he'd beaten onto Kieran's skin.</p><p>Kieran felt a sudden wave of sickness throughout his stomach and swayed to the side. His skin felt horribly wet with sweat, he could feel his blood begin to flare in his veins. Thinking back at it, he never even got the chance to tell Angela May how much he adored her. They used to spend time at the library together, trading books and the occasional secret. Kieran felt a hand softly touch his shoulder, Alphard started at him with a blank expression.</p><p>"Hey, you ok kid? You look pale need to take a breather?" Her blank expression then turned into a concerned one. Even though she towered over Kieran by several feet, he felt an odd sense of safety while being around her. He'd bet all of the books on his shelf that if Joseph or any of his goons came across Kieran while he was with Alphard, they would think twice about throwing him back into the school's lunch bin ever again.</p><p>"Back there, you need to tell me kid, did he hurt you?" He stood star-struck for a moment, then shook his head. Her hand fidget as if to move, but it stilled as she sighed.<br/>
"He do anything else?" <em>Tell her. You have to tell someone, what he did was wrong. It felt wrong, so wrong. She'll sort it out — she will, she has to. . . she doesn't need to. Don't want to bother her. Will she believe me?  Why wouldn't she, she just asked you outright if anything was wrong! Why would she believe me she doesn't even know who I am — stop causing a scene! Be strong, be strong, be strong, don't break.</em></p><p>"No he didn't, I was just scared that's all." She smiled slightly and ruffled his hair.<br/>
"That's good kid, he ever does though, you come straight to me you hear?" He nodded and forced a shy grin.</p><p>A quiet set of footsteps reached Kieran's ears, so quiet that he doubted whether it was a real sound or if he was just hearing things. But there, across from the stairs, was a figure that made his heart jolt and his stomach flip in waves of nervousness.</p><p>Hair of the darkest brown, like the bark of an oak tree, fell over her shoulders in tiny and frilly ringlets. Small, scattered and sun-kissed freckles dotted her face like stars in the night sky. Rosy lips in the shape of a shocked 'O' soon curved into a wide happy smile. Because of the light, her eyes had turned a bright sienna colour — which had sparkling rays of pure happiness embedded into the pupils.</p><p>"Kieran?"</p><p>One step, then another, and another, until she stood in front of him. Her soft voice wavering and she breathed lightly.</p><p>"It's you . . ."</p><p>Norah stared bewildered for a moment, lips parted and hands fisted her long black skirt. She realised that Dr Strain's questionable looking medicine had actually worked! She was unsure about the large bottles of clumpy dark liquid that he'd made Kieran swallow after he fell ill. Of course at first, he refused altogether to help him, despite the fact that he'd been practically dying in Norah's arms at the time.</p><p>Almost everyone in the mansion had a seething hatred towards mortals, for what reason Norah didn't know. She didn't believe it to be her place to ask such things, it was clearly a sore subject. Though it wasn't as if she didn't know anything about this place and the people who lived here. On many occasions Susan had told her about the secrets that stuck to every hallway, corner and nook of the mansion; hinting to the reason why there were no servants to tend to any of the duties. She reminded herself that servants listened too intensely, which was normally through small holes or cracks in the walls.</p><p>Regardless, after begging the good doctor until her eyes were full of welling tears that stung when she blinked, he finally gave in to her annoying request.<br/>
She could still feel Susan's holler reverberating in her ears like a clap of thunder, such was her rage. It was a roar of pure anger, and it made Norah's skin lick with cold shivers, creeping under her warm jumper, and spreading across her skin while recalling the memory. Through Norah's blurry vision from the wet tears she swears she could see the gold in Susan's iris' turn dark from her excessive amount of yelling. Although, she doubted whether or not if the occurrence had actually been true or not. No one particularly enjoyed the sound of Susan's booming voice in their ears so most tended to do as they were told — most that is, not all.</p><p>But after six long days of visiting Kieran in the upstairs infirmary, he was here in front of her, looking mildly healthy and only a little bit terrified. That was something at least. Norah's mouth curved into a wide smile, eyes glistening with a shine that had never lingered until now. She wrapped her arms around his small frame, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Feeling the warm heat of his skin against her round cheeks made her sigh softly.</p><p>"You're alright!" She cried, her voice echoing around the massive hall, twirling Kieran's body around in small circles as they spun. Happiness flowed through her, warming her face like rays of an early summer sun.</p><p>"You . . . you remember me don't you?"<br/>
She asked, setting him down with a large smile. He didn't speak, cheeks flushed a bright scarlet that reached to the tips of his ears.<br/>
"I'm Norah!" She smiled, pointing to her face lightly. Kieran blinked and flashed a shy smile. "Yeah I remember you." He spoke timidly still red-faced. Behind them, Alphard was leaning against the railing of the stairs casually smoking a large cigar that she'd gotten from her breast pocket with her eyes peacefully closed. Letting her skin bathe in the soft rays of the sun from the windows, then her eyes open, casting softly upon the white puffs of smoke above.</p><p>"The two of you are so damn precious d'you know that?" She combed a hand through her hair while the other tapped against her cigar — the ash fluttering down to her feet.</p><p>A loud crash interrupted their reunion. The sound of glass cracking against the floor with the loud clashing of steel emitted from downstairs. Kieran's face was twisted into a frightful frown as he stared blankly at Norah with horrified eyes. Frightened by his expression, it must have also matched hers as Norah took in a sudden intake of breath and stumbled to the side jamming her foot into a crease of the carpet. Her fingers trembled and it wasn't until she took another look was when she noticed that Alphard had snapped her cigar in half.</p><p>Alphard's eyes suddenly looked dead, resembling charcoal clouds on a stormy night. Their bright beauty lost to this victim of the overlapping widespread darkness.</p><p>"Alphard!" A woman appeared from downstairs wearing robes of gold.<br/>
"Oh! I was not aware that the mortal had recovered from his sickness."' The woman had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her black skin was completely flawless. She had the hairstyle that all curly haired women aspire to have — perfect ringlets piled on her head with a few soft spirals about her face. It would have looked marvellous in any colour, on anyone, but black hair against her ebony skin was perfection. She has a kind face, soft and understanding dark eyes that could melt hearts with a bat of her eyelids. When she smiled her teeth were pearly white, like skulls neatly stacked alongside each other.</p><p>"Im afraid your happy reunion must be postponed until this is dealt with." She had hoped that the proposition would not be objectionable. Alphard breathed out the last large puff of smoke that she had been holding in her lungs and spoke slowly.<br/>
"Isn't there some type of protocol for these situations? You'd think with the amount of people who want us dead we'd have better security around here." Her voice came out as unsurprisingly calm and collected as it normally did, a lopsided smirk and all. "Yeah . . .  Definitely need to talk to the big woman about that." Alphard's gaze had not moved from her hands as she was in no real mood to instruct anyone on what to do. Another pair of footsteps pounded from downstairs, this time it was Jordan. She had a mangled and sliced lip, with an obviously broken nose. Her face was caked in dried blood, congealed and cracked. The now browning liquid drizzled down her chin and neck — much like a flood of rain down a mountainside.</p><p>"We have a problem, damn bastards caught me off guard." She wheezed out, her hazel eyes a downcast while staring at the thin droplets of scarlet blood that oozed down her knuckles, her prosthetic fingers snapping together every so often.<br/>
"Shit, it never ends does it . . ." Alphard took long strides towards the other two women. "Imani, show the kids to the passageway in the walls." She nodded and ushered Norah and Kieran to the brick wall beside the large tapestry's. Imani took a deep breath, placing both her palms against the wall and pushed. The smoke that appeared in front of them was strange. It was red smoke that flared along the wall with tiny yellow sparks bursting out from Imanis's fingertips creating a swollen cloud of ash and flame around the wall. The bricks shifted on their own revealing a large hole just big enough for Norah to squeeze through. Imani gazed towards the dark passageway.</p><p>"Down you go little one," her dark eyes softened like fine silk, pools of brown and a vivid red around the iris seemed to be a balance of faded golden rays. "You too dear, down you go now." Kieran let out a small squeak as he was ushered into Norah's back.<br/>
Imani let out a long breath as she heard the roaring cry and thudding footsteps echoing up the stairs. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead as she gave Norah a reassuring smile. "I'm sorry child, but I am needed at the moment. You'll meet Evelyn, Mitch  and Lucas down in the underground levels, stay there, and please — don't come out until someone comes to get you." In truth, Norah had never seen Imani so shaken before and it scared her. Teeth chattering and goosebumps sprouting with cold waves she whimpers.<br/>
"Follow the blue flame — and may Allarah's holy light guide you both."</p><p>Her warm palm caressed Norah's plump apple cheek tracing the groups of freckles around her face. "Imani!" She calls, sadly the wall closes. The soft heat of Imani's hand was still felt on Norah's face skin prickling at the new nipping dampness of the surrounding walls. The stairs ahead were twisted in a perfect spiral like a child's slinky toy pulled from each end. It seemed as if it had been an extremely long time since the crumbling stairs had been used, although, the mansions existence itself was in danger of passing from legend to myth. It reminded Norah of how much the old place had really withered away. Most of the furnishings were lavish and grand, with glimmering gold, glistening silver and the finest of materials adoring various objects. But the whole upper left wing of the mansion had been completely sealed off for years, with fragments of plaster that lay damp over the long untrodden floors, with cold water seeping through the broken windows and rotted frames, according to Marlon that is. He'd said that it hadn't always been so neglected as it was now considering Valentina had previously kept a room there before. However, once that name had passed his lips he immediately shut them tight, while muttering something along the lines of, 'Shit, pretend you didn't hear that ok? That never happened!'</p><p>But now she was here, in a dark cramped space, with fuzzy moss and long vines emerging from the cracks and slits in the bricks. Her hand pressed gently to the wall, hoping that the hole might reveal Imani and Alphard's faces again, unharmed and safe. But nothing, the wall remained stiff and damp as ever. Holding back a choke, Norah pushes herself from the wall to face the ominous blue glow cackling and sizzling behind her.</p><p>Flickering, weaving under the spell it was sparked into. A shrieking ray of turquoise blue purges out of the dry wooden stick. Eagerly, the flame licks the untouched regions of the wood, hungrily devouring anything in its way. The flame was the blue of glacier meltwater, pale with an iridescence not easily forgotten. Kieran pauses too, taking a few seconds to process the many hues. For him, back home, blue is blue. It's the side of a bus, a rain jacket or, at best, an opportunistic flower growing where the sidewalk slabs had become uneven enough to trap mud. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing like this.</p><p>"Ah!" His voice a high pitched squeak, like a mouse caught stealing milk from a hungry cat, he noticed that the flame had illuminated his surroundings, causing his knees to buckle. To his right, was endless darkness, a drop so deep it seemed as if it might never have an end. "Norah!"</p><p>His skin was hit with waves of freezing air, the long, soft blue nightgown was thin and barely fit around his little frame. It was embarrassing to say the least, his quaking arms hugged his waist while a flush of shame spread across his cheeks. Teeth chattering his pink cheek lay itself on Norah's shoulder. Norah noticed the tiny mewl that escaped him, his frozen body clutching hers seeking comfort and warmth that she doubted she could fully provide. It was at that moment she noticed the drop, a cavern that had consumed any form of purified light. "No way . . ." Reaching for a small stone that sat beside her foot, she threw it down hoping to hear just how long of a drop it really was. However, nothing was heard. No sound at all, just a small whimper from beside her and the clacks from the blue flame. She gulped and stared at the various rows of blue torches which spiralled downwards with the stairs. 'Follow the blue flame'. And so she would.</p><p> </p><p>  ___________________________________       </p><p> </p><p>The stairs seemed as never-ending as the drop below. Kieran's shuffling footsteps from his bare feet padded against the uneven floor softly. Small loose stones littered the floor causing Norah to trip as she got closer to the rock face. The mud and grit had become enmeshed with the raw pink flesh and splotches of blood on her scratched knee. One thing was for sure, it was going to be very painful to clean up afterwards. Kieran rushed to her side and lightly pushed her to the wall. The sting of her knee became worse by the second and was gushing with blood from the irritated open wound. Kieran soon ripped apart of his nightgown off, using the material to clean the dirt and grime from her knee.</p><p>"Thank yo-" The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. She could see the muscles of his chin trembling.<br/>
"I'm sorry." He whimpered out, face as red as a large beetroot.<br/>
"It's alright it doesn't hurt that bad," Norah chuckled rubbing the back of her head like Kieran's father would normally do when dealing with his enraged wife. "Everything's fine, it's ok-"<br/>
"It's not ok!" For the first time in a long time the scrawny and pitiful boy, Kieran Chuan, had actually shouted at someone. "Don't say that! You don't know what's going to happen either. Everything's so confusing." The tears kept falling and his bony fingers ripped at his hair. "And now look, we're going to starve or dehydrate in this cave. I just want to go home." Kieran sank to the floor right beside Norah, hugging his knees to his chest and silently sobbing with a quiver in his lip.</p><p>"I don't want to die, not like this, I'm going to die without ever graduating from school, or getting married, or doing anything worth something." he whimpered like a beaten dog feeding his own self-pity. Feeling a tug at his sleeve he looked up with sad, soft eyes. The light of the torch glowed on Norah's soft cheeks. In her hand, she held a book, the one Kieran had dropped previously before stepping into the forest.</p><p>"I'm sorry too. That probably wasn't the right thing to say on my part. I know it's scary, and I'm scared too. But we have to think positively — for the most positive outcome — that's what Imani's always telling me." Norah gave a slight smile, the ones much like her mother before her would give, they had the same look in their eyes after all.<br/>
"No offence to you or her but that's a little difficult to do right now." Mumbling into his hands he realised that there was a strange type of concentration he now possessed being in an almost completely silent space. The silence was awfully awkward at first but gave way to new sounds like drop-drops of water and the squeaks of bats high above. Norah shifted and wriggled her toes inside of her cold shoes.</p><p>"You know that book by the path you picked up a while back. I'd — well — I watched you read from the bushes whenever you'd take a walk sometimes. Alright that sounded strange. . . but bare with me. I thought of so many ways to say hello to you, and about what we might talk about if we did meet. Sounds creepy doesn't it, I wasn't trying to be, scaring you was the last thing I wanted. I've never spoken to a mortal before so I was a little overwhelmed I suppose. I noticed that you liked books so I brought one of my own but I never got the nerve to give it to you in person. I thought maybe I'd scare you off and you'd never come back. So I left it by some violets that I'd seen you draw a couple times." The dimples of her cheeks dipped with her smile, "I'd gone back to the lake while you were sick and found it in the grass. It was a mess after being outside for so long, sorry about that, the rain made the pages wet. But I put my hairdryer on it so it would dry quicker."</p><p>He clutched the book in his hands tracing the words on the front cover, 'JOHN IRVING, A Prayer for Owen Meany.' A book that had been published little over a year ago, and had become a fast favourite by Norah and her ravenous thirst for a good story.<br/>
"I'm sorry Kieran if I hadn't given you this book then you wouldn't have started coming so close to the forest. I didn't think about what it might do to you. You wouldn't have gotten so sick. And you wouldn't be stuck in this cave with me now." Her thumb wiped away the salt of his tears lightly as her hand ghosted along the side of his face. Kieran sat there with a pink tint sitting comfortably across his cheekbones with large eyes red from his weeping. "No, it's alright. I don't want you to blame yourself, I'm ok so long as you stay here, with me . . ." They locked eyes, her smile a mirror of his. Then he rolled a little closer, his head resting on her shoulder, hands clasping together to create warmth from the wretched dampness of the cave. They sat and dumbly smiled in pure silence. They knew that there was nothing to smile about in this moment. However, they found each other company comforting as they bathed in each other's presence. Everything at that moment was quiet.</p><p>"Kieran, we are not going to die here. We will get out of here I promise." Norah's eyes shined  with hope and determination. Her face serious with the bridge of her nose wrinkling whilst gripping Kieran's hand tightly in hers.</p><p>"And how're we going to do that?" Kieran tracked her movement as she pushed herself up from the ground, checking underneath her bandage. The wound was still pink and irritated. Although even if it did burn like a hot iron brand on her flesh, it wasn't turning black, meaning that if the wound was infected the it had not yet turned serious. She could walk, and most likely run with a bit of hobbling, but being able to move at all was at least some comfort. "Don't really know. But there must be some way out, or maybe a safe place to rest at least until the others come and get us."</p><p>"You called me a mortal — the woman called me that too."<br/>
Norahs eyebrows raised, "Which woman?"<br/>
The boy shifted uneasily at the memory of the infirmary room, the apparent doctor who was far more handsy that he ought to have been. And the woman with golden eyes burning a hole through his skull.<br/>
"The . . . scary looking one." He whispered as if she were watching him.<br/>
"Oh! You mean Susan. Yeah she doesn't really like you a whole lot. To be honest she doesn't really like anyone a whole lot."<br/>
"But why'd she call me a mortal? She looked really angry — like I'd done something awful." Norah chuckled knowing full well how stoic Susan could be.<br/>
"I didn't ruin any sacred ground did I?" He asked.<br/>
"Not that I'm aware of. That's just the way she is, don't worry you haven't done anything wrong. And the whole mortal thing is . . . well it's hard to explain and honestly I'm not even sure I fully understand it myself. And it's strange because everyone's always telling me how bad they are, that's they're selfish and cruel. But you haven't been any of those thing, In fact you seem very nice, it's a good first impression I think!" Norah gleefully remarked.</p><p>"Uh. . . thank you? Although me falling face first into the dirt when we met must have made me look pretty strange." Kieran was still unsure if this was all just a hallucination caused by medication, maybe he was in the hospital right now being treated by professionals and was drugged up to his eyeballs so he couldn't think straight.</p><p>Norah gave Kieran was a reassuring smile shaking her head. Although it seemed to be enough for him. But then there was a noise. A horrible noise that contained wet croaks and chokes along with cracks and groans from old bones. Suddenly, standing there, looming up out of the black waters from the pools in front of the pair, was a shadow darker than the cave itself. It was several feet higher than Norah or Kieran, and there were pale lights burning where you would expect to find eyes, and a fetid stench of withered plants rolled off of it — a warm stench that relieved the chill of the river. It let out a horrendous choking sound, gargling and gasping like that of a drowning man — and gave Norah and Kieran a stretched smile, showing off its various yellow fangs. Norah gripped Kieran's hand hard, giving him a final wide-eyed look she muttered from under her bated breath, "Run".</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Cry From The Void</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Something is changing. The shift In reality has yet to be absorbed, a shadow of a man calls out in the dark. The attack brings forth a new kind of threat — one which many believed to have been dead yet never buried. Never forgotten.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spitting, cursing, gasping for breath with a broken soul. Dreams shattered with centuries of isolation and betrayal. For the first few years of his imprisonment, all he could do was weep and screech. He prayed to Allarah, though he'd never been the religious sort, to send someone, anyone to save him from this torture. Though he quickly realised that his God did not provide such miracles; his tears ran quickly with broken fingers clawing at his chains. Rusted and cold they dug so sorely into his wrists and neck.</p><p>He remembers a man. Though, he can't recall his face with much detail — wide-eyed and unblinking. The man with the bloodshot eyes had studied his transformation with close inspection. He hurt him — whips, lashes, tearing flesh, broken bones, hysterical laughter with knives and screws hammering into his brain. Oh, the pain. The pain was bad. And the smell of his flesh falling from his bones like a tender piece of meat was even worse. The man would write in his little book every time his 'patient' was hurt, scribbling out sketches of his gaping wounds, his organs, his insides. The man would often call himself a doctor' and a 'man of medicine' which was a farce, a lie to cover up was he really was. He would always confess his passion for torture which is why he took so much pride in beating, starving, and humiliating his victims. Frightening them so much that they begged him for sweet release. To escape his cruelty. The one thing that could save any of his victims from him. <strong>Death</strong>. But the doctor always had reasons.</p><p>He had been so close to death, yet unable to die. At that time he would only be thinking of her. He remembers her face, no matter how much his body and mind became damaged by the damp and murky waters, or his eyes — rotted, sad patches of leathery skin that pushed back deep into his sockets. He remembers her. Face aglow with kindness and pity. Though he had noticed that she hadn't visited in some time, he waited — patient and quiet as always, dreaming of her kind face. Too long had he waited for the warmth of her hands upon his face. Too long had it been since he had tasted anything else but putrid fish. Too long had it been since he had heard another's voice, other than his own of course. Deep, down here by the dark water and spreading fungus was where he lived. He was only a disgusting, slimy creature now. Scarvol is who he was. A grotesque voice had told him so long before <em>she</em> had stopped visiting him.</p><p>His skin was as dark as darkness itself, other than his milky white eyes, large like telescopes. His complexion was the ash of grey death, along with his disfigured body, (which resembled a gaunt skeleton recently disinterred from the grave.) He had chains that held him in place underneath the water, which had been shackled to his flesh for so long that they had seeped deep into his limbs; the rust and iron melting and sticking to his withered skin. Never a ripple did he make while in the water, his legs and arms had stretched, bones shifting and grinding, his muscles and joints cracking apart to gain momentum to catch his slippery prey.</p><p>But now, he could feel her presence, her words, her warmth. The honey of her kind soul was so near.</p><p>"Valentina!" He wailed, like a terrified child reaching out to the safe embrace of his mother. She screeched in alarm, chest-pounding, her pale skin shimmering in the small light of the torch. His arms stretched out to comfort her whimpers. <em>She</em> had never been afraid of him before, she had never feared anything before. He recalls a faint memory of her war. The battlefield that day saw soldiers from both sides fighting to their last breath, the young army of conquerors wielding their weapons without mercy.</p><p> </p><p>___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Rocks, pebbles and fish spawn stuck to his feet, back and legs. His claws scraping the edge of the lake as he hurled himself towards her. Unclean and suffering from suppurations of the flesh, Scarvol gave off a strange and eerie odour of decay and decomposition, which frankly just reeked of death. The aged chains kept him back, they tortured poor Scarvol — he pulled and pushed, but they would not budge. Only more pain as they pinched the flesh of his neck and wrists.</p><p>"Run." She said to the boy beside her, clutching his hand tightly with worry. They bounced from the wall. They ran hand in hand, however, Scarvol noticed a limp in her sprint, a wound — blood soaked through the torn fabric around her knee. Who had dared to hurt her?</p><p>"Don't leave me please!" His tears came out cold, the colour green they sprung, falling from his chin and brushing against the stale clumps of flesh that dangled from his neck and shoulders. Clutching her leg tightly he sobbed. He even made sure that his claws would not damage the soft of her knee.</p><p>"Don't leave me again, waited and waited for so long, waited. Stayed here waiting, yes, always waiting!" She was dazed by the creatures sudden outburst. His hands gripped the end of her skirt, fisting and clawing as he held on so tight.</p><p>"Who are you?" She sweated, attempting to tug her leg away from the creature's embrace. He only clutched tighter, his moans ceasing for a dark moment; he processed her question. Cold, damp, bleeding from his heart he wails, thrashing against the chains. He looks up at her, a waterfall of tears sprayed down his damaged face.<br/>
"Valentina! S-she knows me. You know me!"</p><p>Valentina? That was — how could he?</p><p>"Norah?" A voice called. She recognised it to be Kieran's, his face was timid and frightened. Anxiously, he clutched her sleeve with both of his hands, slowly trying to jerk her away from the sobbing creature.</p><p>"Wait! Maybe I can help him, I know who he's talking about." Her eyes darkened into a heart wrenching downcast — she wanted to help. This poor creature didn't deserve such a fate, no one deserved this. She knelt to his level, searching for any type of humanity that might still linger in his white eyes. The creature coughed and grunted, struggling to breathe for a moment.</p><p>"You left me down here." His tone had suddenly turning low. The few yellow fangs still in his mouth scraped against each other, making a horrendously loud squeaking sound like nails on a chalkboard. The sound began to ring through Norah's ears.</p><p>"You let him hurt Scarvol, wept I did, wept for so long. I was faithful, only did what was best for our people — betrayal, yes, you wouldn't let me die. Told me that you couldn't let me go, no more pain, Scarvol doesn't want any more pain!"</p><p>Gripping her leg he pulls her forward towards him. Her back slamming to the uneven rocks below. He was dragging her to the lake. Norah's nails hurriedly scrape against the cracks and dips of the rock, hoping to clutch anything that might keep her away from the dark waters. Scarvol's claws sink deep into her makeshift bandage and of the inside of her grazed flesh. The nails at the end of the Scarvol's long stick-like fingers were chipped and blackened. The tips of his fingers curled underneath her skin, digging and scraping his nails across her muscles and nerves while she bled a crimson pool down her leg to her ankle. A cry of searing pain forced itself upon her lips. Her legs were thrashing wildly. Eyes glued to her arms outstretched, her hands white-knuckled and frantically twitching.</p><p>Kieran swallowed his anger as if it was a boiling hot fire-seed. He let it grow in his belly until it burst and bloomed through his stomach and heart, it's molten vines were as sweltering and blistering as any flames breathed by a dragon. How could this thing hurt Norah, she had tried to help it and it just attacks her?</p><p>She stares up at the shuffling shadow of a figure standing tall above her. A rock hammers into the Scarvol's lower back. The strike radiated pain in a way that shattered Norah's brain. Her mouth hung open with lips slightly parted and her eyes stretched as wide as they could go. The slimy creature retracted his claws from Norah's legs and rolled to his side. Chains clunking and rattling, skin beaten, bruised and battered upon his leathery skin as he clutched around himself to reach his damaged spine. Bare feet tap against the puddles of disgustingly damp mud. A faded blue nightgown clings to his slim body, the large rips of the fabric create loose strings of material to dangle from his reddened knees. The creature wailed in alarm as Kieran lifted the rock high above his head again. He bashes the creatures sharp spine painfully, (causing Norah to cringe at the cracking sound and wailing groans that the creature, made.)</p><p>"Don't you touch her, leave her alone!" Norah sat in silence, Kieran's eyes were dripping with tears. She didn't believe that he had it in him. And she had never been so happy to have been wrong. Kieran threw the rock to the side of the dark pool and grabbed Norah's wrist. They exchanged only a brief look before they started to run. And as they ran down the narrow path of rock and mud, they could hear the creature's scurrying. An attempt to chase after them — which was only restricted by the rusted chains that stuck to his skin. His throat let out another horrific gurgling sound, and he screamed the words that would stay in Norah's mind for days to come.</p><p>"<strong>Liar</strong>! <strong>Liar</strong>!!"         </p><p>                 </p><p>___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Clutching her staff, as proud as always, she sends a burst of ice towards her opponents charging form. A slight groan escapes his mouth as his body freezes in place, sword held up high ready for a killing blow. Susan huffs in disgust, Noldorian clans didn't usually come this far into the mortal realm. Not since King Casbien had been assassinated during the revolution. Even so, it was the King's replacement, Queen Merrilda IV, his beloved and traitorous cousin, that ordered the Elves and the Noldorian clans to be banished from the towns and cities under her command. Though it was foolish of her to have hoped to ever achieve the extinction of two entire races, it certainly had not stopped her from trying before her death. She huffed through her nose, of all times for this to happen. Norah had kept a close watch on the human, Susan had made a mental note of her concern. Like her mother, Norah possessed a gentle heart, as was her nature.</p><p>A very familiar chuckle brought Susan back from her thoughts. Marlon was crouched under the cover of an overturned table, his fingernails tapping against the nocking point on his bow. Without a moment's hesitation, he released the bowstring, sending an arrow shooting straight towards the young warrior opposite, successfully hitting him in the side of his neck. Marlon grinned like a madman, his tanned fingertips tracing the hand-carved blessings on the upper limb of the bow as the Noldorian screeched, clutching the arrow and snapping the end off roughly. Whatever screams that might have been caught in his throat were soon gone as he gasped and choked.</p><p>"C'mon you can't leave it a half-assed job." Susan's eyes spot Alphard's white hair flail and bounce as she ran — almost as if it possessed a mind of its own.<br/>
"This is how you finish a fucking job." Her battle axe sliced itself right through the Noldorians neck, completely severing his head from his shoulders. Susan grimaced as she watched his feet twitch against the stained carpet — with his head rolling to her shoes, eyes wide and dull. Alphard and Marlon held each other's shoulders for support as they cackled and gasped for breath, their laughter echoing throughout the halls.<br/>
"That's twenty-six for me."<br/>
"Bullshit I shot him first, he was dying anyway!"<br/>
"Now don't be such a sore loser." She chuckled.<br/>
"Well, I'm not paying you until every bastard in this place is full of arrows — I'm still good on our bet."<br/>
"You owe me money anyway you tight fuck, consider this doing be a favour as well as a good sport."</p><p>"Must the two of you be so crude?" Her staff banged against the carpet while she let out a disgusted scoff.<br/>
"Ah, Susie it's only for a laugh," Alphard smirked. "Always hated this carpet too, it's about time we did some redecorating." Susan's eyebrows furrowed in clear annoyance at her given nickname.</p><p>"If you would refrain from calling me that I would gravely appreciate it." If scowls could kill, Alphard would have been dust in the wind thousands of years ago by now. Susan always winced at that nickname, so naturally, Alphard always called her such. Susan's expressions always seemed to bring her pleasure.<br/>
"What, Susie? You used to love that when we were kids." She rested her chin on Susan's tensed shoulder — slithering her hand towards the stiff woman's knuckles; brushing her nails along her flesh. A flirtatious action. She bashed the staff against the floor defensively. Alphard pulls away and begins to pace.</p><p>"It's just not like the good old days, is it? When there were servants to do the housework — everyone always busy — doesn't have the same energy."<br/>
"If I remember correctly, it was your dalliances with the maids and footmen that led to that decision in the first place." Marlon snorted, trying to cover it with a cough<br/>
"Ah, c'mon you aren't seriously still upset about that are you? Everyone needs to blow some off steam now and again, no? And anyway don't put that shit on me — it was the spies that were the real problem."</p><p>"Oh yeah, wasn't it the cook who did it last time? Shame, I loved that cheese dip he used to make." Marlon interjected.<br/>
"We are fortunate Imani noticed his odd mannerisms before any information could be leaked. After all, what does a regular cook have to worry about except for deliveries coming on time and the food being cooked on time."</p><p>Another Noldorian came charging into the room, enraged at the sight of his brothers head at the feet of his enemies. The warrior scrambled, trying to keep his body low, and launched a dagger with surprising agility. Marlon, however, was not too worried as he lined up his shot. Susan felt her mana burn and crackle around her — a barrier soon surrounded Marlon's body. It always made his mouth taste funny afterwards, but of course, it was preferable to a blade in his face. The barrier acted as a strong shield from the blow of the dagger. It bounced off, flying towards a painting above the mantle, sitting right between the model's eyes. At the same moment, Marlon released two arrows into the Noldorians chest, satisfied as the warrior slumped and choked.</p><p>Alphard inspected the dagger lodged in the painting but did not attempt to remove it.<br/>
"Oh Merrilda, you dumb bitch, getting daggers stuck in you even after death." Marlon crouched down to watch the Noldorian struggle.<br/>
"Have to admit, I never thought the council had the balls to send someone to spy on us."<br/>
"Since Val's been gone they've swarmed around us like flies on crap. You'd think <em>we</em> were the ones bleeding them dry."</p><p>"Suppose that's the only way they know-how — although the religious types are always finding new ways to celebrate their goddamn wealth." For the next few seconds, they stood in silence. Marlon attempted to speak but shut his mouth tight, he didn't like to think about all that money. All that gold slipping into their greasy, fat fingers. The wounded Noldorian had stopped breathing, funny, Marlon hadn't noticed. The utter exhaustion which only a neurasthenic personality can know is evident in Marlon's manner.</p><p>Susan glances at the woman opposite her and grumbles uneasily.<br/>
"What about Rutham? Have you heard any news about how they've reacted?" That seemed to make Alphard perk up enough to answer.<br/>
"The city does what it does best — turning respectable men into whoring drunkards — they aren't too broken up about the Emperors new trade route negotiations." She chuckled. Marlon leaned his head back, cracking his neck and spoke up.</p><p>"What's this about Rutham?"<br/>
"Doesn't matter, Marlon." Alphard muttered.<br/>
"It does if they decide to rebel. It'll be bad for business. Although, a rebellion might make the council get off their fat asses and start asking questions of who's really in control?" Susan's eyes narrowed at this, her brother had never been good at courtly manner, politics never suited him<br/>
"Our alliance with the council is essential, we cannot discard it for the advantage over one broken city. If they decide to create a plot against Rutham I will discover it — but until then you'll keep quiet about this whole affair." Susan said simply while smoothing a hand over her hair.<br/>
"Best not to spread that information."<br/>
Alphard nodded with a hint of concern in her voice.</p><p>Marlon leaned against the wall with a groan. His head was tipped down, a few curly strands of hair poking out from his sloppily tied ponytail. The archer wore a similar belt that many rouges did; with small flasks of poison, multiple spike traps kept in pouches attached to his hip, daggers strapped to his thigh and a bottle of purple knockout powder in his breast pocket.</p><p>"Why am I always the last to know about what's happening, ain't I at least allowed reports?"<br/>
"You have always been free to attend any council meetings, Marlon. I just don't invite you to any because what you think is best, is not what is best for the people." Marlon laughed, pushing himself away from the wall.<br/>
"Why're you being like this? Givin' and nagging orders like I'm still a little boy. Acting like a spinster schoolmarm — you jus' cluck away like the old hen you are." Susan sneered.<br/>
"You would—" Marlon cut her off.<br/>
"The people? Right, like I'm supposed to believe the incredible amount of horseshit that comes out of the council's mouthes. Bet they think they're so high and fucking mighty cause they sit on silk cushions in those satin dresses. . . no, robes! We all know its propaganda — just that no ones says anything about it because there's nothing that could be said that hasn't been brought up before. It won't change."<br/>
Alphard stalks around the room with a blank stare catching in her eyes every so often, Marlon suddenly felt fearful.</p><p>"Look she's right Marlon, council meetings aren't at all what they make up to be — you'd be bored stiff within an hour of listening to the priest's prattle on about the faith." Alphard nonchalantly used her axe as a pointer — emphasising dramatically while she spoke.<br/>
"The hell could be more important than deciding the fate of the whole realm?" Marlon questions.<br/>
"You have no idea how slow the progress has been to achieve what the council was made for." Susan grumbled under her breath, though Marlon heard anyway.<br/>
"You're right, I wouldn't know, because depressingly I'm never invited."</p><p>"Now now, baby brother, don't get touchy." Alphard laughed and threw her arm around Marlon's shoulder bringing him closer. Susan's nose pointed to the roof with perhaps a little too much pride for anyone's liking and huffed quietly. Alphard let go of Marlon — ruffling his hair for good measure. She observed Susan's face, which was contorting into several disgusted expressions all at once again.</p><p>Suddenly, Ann stepping into the room. Her wet pink hair flopping over her face into a large ball of frizz. Susan lifted her nose up high again, huffing through it as she thumped her staff against the carpet once more.<br/>
"So, who are these asshats anyway?"</p><p>"Noldorian's. Pig - faced cunts — glad to see more of the fuckers at the end of my axe." Alphard grinned while admiring her battle axe, cradling it in her arms like a child.<br/>
"I've heard of them before but never seen one up close. There were restrictions for them entering Fairhaven." Ann remembers news of clans threatening to sack the city, not that an invasion would make the shithole any worse than it already was.</p><p>"Quite, judging from their weapons and war paint, it would seem that they were attempting to send us a warning." Susan's staff shoved the dead warriors head away, studying his face. The soaked clean-cut tear of his neck and the leaking blood oozing from the naked tissue made Susan kick the head even further.<br/>
"Cultists, fucking fantastic. . ." Ann hissed and her nose twitching, a nervous habit she'd never grown out of, "Ugly bastards." She murmured under her breath. They stood in a hall, the floor made of white marble now stained with the Noldorian's disgusting blood. The stair rails leading to the upper floors were ornate mahogany, carved and polished so that it shined. Portraits were painted in oils and hung in gold frames. Furniture was all handmade by master craftsmen. The hall became silent for a moment, it made Ann's nose twitch again. Although, there was the tinge of sickening sweetness that was the smell of fresh corpses, reminding her of the stench of rotting that she'd smell in Fairhaven. It took her back to the first time she'd entered the rat-infested city.</p><p>
  <em>Thick smoke hung around the air like a disease, trapping various birds into its poisonous grasp and filling their lungs with dark poisonous clouds. She never pitied the birds while walking over their corpses, which were normally full of maggots by noon. Most of them were crows; who had become a menace in recent years with the number of dead beggars that littered the Five Domes. The crows had short stubby beaks, bright eyes like black onyx beads, dainty heads tilting this way and the other, shiny black wrinkled feet, saggy folds of skin at the ankles, and three thin toes forward and one back. They would clasp the clothe lines with their sharp black talons and stare at the whores and beggars below. She often wondered when it would be her turn to be discovered by the birds, then take a trip to the undertaker's if anyone bothered to move her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, she would never miss Fairhaven itself or the beggars, or the whores, or the fat rick pigs, or the birds who'd move their heads from side to side like it were clockwork, like there was a switch in their brains that flicked to choose the direction to look but not the speed of the motion. But she did miss the occasional fresh gust of wind, rare as it was she'd always breath it in through her nose, almost smelling pine trees at times or a freshly baked pie. Even if it was rarer than a shooting star over the smell of the dead.</em>
</p><p>A wave of violet flame shot towards her, shaking her from her daydream. It moved rapidly — and sounded like a sudden boom of thunder. Ann could do nothing but watch the scorching bundle of heat travel towards her. She huffed out a curse yet her feet stood still. She turned her head to the side and gazed at Noah — who's eyes were widening with fright. Ann's pair of eyes softened in that one moment, one of Noah's cheeks was bruised all black and blue from her previous rage. It seemed so petty now as she thought back at it, her candy floss coloured hair shouldn't have made her so angry. It had been a harmless prank, and hey she'd been so angry with him, why?</p><p>Her feet weren't quick enough to dodge the flames, she was sorry, so very sorry for hurting Noah — his purple cheek made her cringe with guilt knowing that she was the one that who put it there.</p><p>"Fuck!" She shielded her face with her arms. However a loud sound, a familiar sound filled her ears. It resembled the sound that a hammer might make if it banged against a hot piece of metal from a scorching forge. A mighty clanging sound. Ann opened her eyes, clutching her shoulders tight.</p><p>Susan stood in front of her. A massive barrier of blue light blocking the flames from its target. The attack had come from a Noldorian mage, he stood a good few meters away from both of them growling out something vicious. He had little to no teeth and had a large bloated nose with a fat hairy chin. He wore an assortment of feathers and beads in his hair, signifying that he was an important member among the clan, (and most likely had the first pick of the women too.) He had an old, tattered spellbook in his left hand, which contained an assortment of dangerous spells and summonings that any mage should be cautious of. Uttering a few words from it caused the writing on the page to glow the same violet colour as the flames.</p><p>However, before the Noldorian could attack again, Susan had frozen his feet in place, making it impossible to move. The mage screeched and squawked similarly to the crows in Fairhaven. The sharp shards of ice splitting into thick skin, spiralling through torn muscles and freezing blood. He tried to attack again, his spellbook had suddenly flipped a couple of pages on its own, but came to a standstill as a bullet shot straight into the back of his head, deep into his thick skull.</p><p>Noah stood behind him, his finger still shaking on the trigger. He fired the gun again, this time right into the centre of his shoulder blades. The shell of the bullet clicked out of the slot, it was a light golden colour, and was hot to the touch; so much so that a line of steam sizzled from its middle. Ann shifted slightly as the barrier disappeared. From the way her heart was thumping against her chest, she had the sudden thought that she might be having a heart attack. That the Noldorian had terrified her so much that her body had gone into shutdown. Although the thought quickly left her as soon as it came, you ain't mortal, stop acting like one.</p><p>"Shit, thanks, Susan." She didn't look at her superior straight in the eyes, although many brave few had ever dared. Susan clicked her tongue and shot a creasing scowl towards Ann.</p><p>"You were reckless, such sloppy behaviour is not expected of you." Her voice was a naturally assertive one, fit for a leader. Susan turned her attention to Noah's direction. "You're aim has improved Noah, though you know how I feel about using such a useless choice of weapon. The gun might be effective against these opponents but will be useless against any immortal. To add, you hesitated. A few seconds of hesitation can get you or your comrades killed, fix this."</p><p>Noah nodded sharply and looked down into Ayumi's eyes, and awkwardly put his arms around her. Vergib mir, Ann, I almost thought I'd lost you there, you damn she-devil." Ann scanned his high cheekbones and the large purple welt that she'd left behind. Brushing her knuckle against the bruise made him wince.</p><p>"Mach dir keine Sorge, ich werde leben. It's not that bad." Noah sheepishly grinned like the fool he was. Ann punched his arm playfully and groaned.</p><p>"I still haven't forgiven you about my hair, I mean look at the mess you made!" Noah cocked his head to the side with his long dreadlocks falling over his collarbone.</p><p>"What's wrong with it? I think it's cute." Ann's face was set ablaze.</p><p>"It's pink you daft git!" Annoyed, she punched his arm again, but Noah could only laugh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay new chapter and characters! The long awaited Christmas holiday is finally here, and I’m so happy to be getting back into writing. Hopefully the next chapter will be a bit more interesting. Stay healthy everyone! &lt;3</p><p>German Translations:<br/>Vergib mir.<br/>Forgive me. </p><p>Mach dir keine Sorge, ich werde leben.<br/>Don’t worry, I’ll live.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Any Broken Minds To Mend?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nothing stays, nothing lingers. Oh Lord, hear the cries of those you abandoned. See them bleed, watch them kneel — we ask you — have they not suffered enough? Was our struggle all for nothing? To curse them, to have them experience pain even in death, you are too cruel. Let them sleep, we beg you. Justice! Justice! We give you our lives as you demand, and you cast them aside? Is this nothing more than a cruel joke?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flame of the torch flickers, casting an ominous glow throughout the tunnel. Shadows danced around the narrow walls that they hurried through. Running from the light. There was no comfort here, a low whistling through the slits in the rock from strong winds told them so. Evelyn shuddered, dragging her hand across a crack in the rock, picking up dust and grime which made her palm and fingers feel damp and cold. She sighed shakily. Raking her tongue across her dry lips. Pulling her woollen cardigan closer to her body she gazed gloomily at her shoes. Her feet ached terribly from walking through the dark cave, and she was begging to wonder if the rocky paths and the spiralling stairways were ever going to end. Her flat shoes were caked with thick mud, though she was beyond caring at this point; she wished that she would have worn something warmer as the cold seeped into her toes and spread painfully throughout her feet as if they were bare on the icy rocks. Rather than what the mild protection her flat shoes provided.</p><p>"Stupid cave, stupid rocks, stupid fucking darkness, stupi—ah! Shit!" Mitch cursed with a loud shriek. His boot falling into a deep hole, leaving most of his leg hidden by the swallowing blackness in the floor. Evelyn turned to watch him struggle. He was wriggling around like a worm caught in a birds beak. He was making the most ridiculous sounds too. With high-pitched, frustrated screams and groans as his leg seemed no closer to being released by the hole it was caught in. Mitch resembled what a deer might look like stuck in a hunters trap. Desperate to come free and flee from the danger, writhing and thrashing in the hope that the trap might loosen, though it never would. Perhaps there are hounds and hunters yet to find him.</p><p>Lucas stood behind Mitch with a dumb expression plastered on his pale face. Lucas was a tall man and a strong one at that. Though he could lift a sword that was double his size, he generally didn't resort to violence, unless it was necessary.</p><p>Lucas didn't see the fights that he and Mitch had as violent. What he saw as violent was when Ann would start to kick, punch, slap and tackle poor Noah after he'd pulled yet another prank on her.</p><p>Noah was always reminded of the consequences of his actions against Ann, as the bruise on his cheek had become an array of painful colours against his skin from turning her hair into a light, candy-pink shade. He'd laughed it off though and whistled through his teeth. '<em>It was worth it, to see her reaction. It was too perfect!</em>' His accent slipped through his speech with confidence. He held no shame of his origin, he spoke his mind when others had been afraid to. It had been foolish though. Leaving him with a scar across his back. A reminder of his youth. Some nights he still felt the sting. The taste of blood in his mouth.</p><p>"Don't just stand there, you moron!" Mitch barked the order at the taller man as if he had any authority over him. He continued to struggle, his head straining back as he pulled with all of his might.</p><p>"Oi Lucas! Help me will you?" Speaking a little softer this time while sighing in defeat. His leg was never going to budge, and he needed Lucas to yet again, come and save him like the danger proof damsel he was. Plodding slowly towards Mitch, Lucas threw his large paws underneath the other man's armpits.</p><p>Mitch flushed with embarrassment at his current predicament. He always managed to get into stupid situations like this, and no matter how hard he tried to solve them on his own, he always ended up getting saved by someone else. Always ended up with someone else taking the blame for the shit that he'd caused. He couldn't tell if it was a blessing or some sort of curse.</p><p>"Ah! Be careful you tosser! I still want my leg attached to my fucking body!" Evelyn chuckled at the man's hissy fit. She watched as Lucas heaved Mitch out from the hole, his leg rising in the air like a sword drawn from its sheath, ready for combat, as he was finally released. Mitch stared at his leg for a moment then grimaced in disgust. They all watched the slimy water ooze from his boot and trouser leg. The hole that he had gotten his foot stuck in must have been filled with moisture from the small lakes and leaking ceilings of the cave. Feeling the clumpy and thick fluid fill and soak his poor once dry socks. The feeling was uncomfortable and cold making the poor man shiver, teeth scraping against each other as a blade might scrape against a grindstone. The water almost looked black against Mitch's trousers, and it had various clusters of dead bugs and plants sliding down and plopping to the rock.</p><p>"Oh great. . . that's just fantastic!" Mitch wailed dramatically, flicking the plants and bugs from his shoe like flying bullets with displeasure. Lucas cackled and slapped Mitch hard on the back. Mitch's brow furrowed together and the sharp line of his jaw was clenched with anger.</p><p>"We should keep moving," Evelyn muttered awkwardly, leaning the flaming torch far in front of her. Gazing at the end of the tunnel that would probably lead them to even more stairs, and hopefully the main part of the cave. Nervously chewing her puckered lip. Mitch seemed to have forgotten that she had even been there. Glancing up at her in surprise at the sound of her quiet voice.<br/>The two men nodded, and they all started walking again.</p><p>The silence was tense as they shuffled down even more stairs, tunnels, and cramped spaces. They kept walking down deeper into the cave. Without the torch, they would all probably be engulfed in the creeping blackness which surrounded them. Evelyn was not afraid of the dark, not anymore. But this place just felt so wrong. And she found that she could not place her finger on it, although if she did she felt as if she would probably need to wash it afterwards. She really didn't want to walk ahead of the two men, as the setting was much too similar to something from a horror novel that she'd once read. The ones that made you doubt the safety of your own home, believing that every small or sudden noise was a monster creeping outside your door, waiting to turn the handle ever so slowly. But with Mitch flat out refusing to go first, '<em>In case we get jumped by something down here</em>' and Lucas wanting to stay behind and follow Mitch, Evelyn found that she didn't have much choice in the matter.</p><p>Finally, after the painful amount of walking which had made her feet feel too heavy for her legs, they all came across a dark, battered door. It had the symbol of an odd bird that the three immortal's thought that they recognised. However, they couldn't think at the moment as the small tunnel that they stood it suddenly felt much too stuffy and crowded. The air smelled somehow rotten and old if that was even possible, and the end of the tunnel seemed infinitely longer than before.</p><p>Lucas pushed the door with one of his giant hands, making the hinges creak and groan from the sudden pressure. Suddenly, the door collapsed under its own weight and slammed down the stairs below. The setting in front of them was dissimilar to what they had previously seen in the cave. The stairs seemed radically more uneven than before, probably from the feet of too many people. Ashen scars on the stone walls from a past fire spell of a mage. Various pots, chests, and boxes littered themselves around the sphere-shaped room. There was a massive amount of space, though in some areas of the room the rocky floor had disappeared completely, leaving various lethal drops to the dark water below. Writing is etched into the stone walls that were from a near-dead language, so old that only a handful of immortal's could remember what the words meant. Another door identical to the one Lucas had pushed down stood at the other end of the room, according to Susan, Norah had taken another route to get to the chamber. Evelyn hoped that she was unharmed from the chaos upstairs.</p><p>"I fucking hate caves. . ." Mitch groaned while rubbing his thumb and index finger in between his brows.</p><p> </p><p>___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Norah's knee was burning from her wound, it was hot and uncomfortable and the pain was sharp and spread in waves, though she was beyond caring at this point. Kieran was lagging behind her as his skinny legs could not keep up with her's for long.<br/>They'd both been running for what felt like hours. The monster that called itself Scarvol had been screaming and shrieking until Kieran and Norah had no choice but to run away. Norah could still remember the sound Scarvol's chains rattling as he jerked and pulled, trying to break free and chase after the both of them. Norah didn't exactly know where she was running to. After all, this place was built like a maze. But right now, all that she knew was that she and Kieran had to get as far as possible away from the chained monster as he screamed like a wild banshee behind them.</p><p>She has no idea if the old rusted chains would hold Scarvol down. However, she prayed for the safety of both her and Kieran that Scarvol wasn't strong enough to break them and give chase. Norah had hoped to help the poor creature as he cried at her feet, sobbing out a name that didn't belong to her. Scarvol had looked much smaller and weaker while weeping and clutching tightly to her leg. Norah wanted to help the hurt, untangle the various knots in the creatures broken heart. 'No one deserves that type of pain. Maybe there's a way to cure him?' Norah's mind was buzzing with thoughts of the creature. But she couldn't afford to think of them now, maybe later when she and Kieran got to somewhere more secure than here.</p><p>"I think we're safe for now..." Norah breathed heavily and slouched down to regain her breath. Her palms rested on her knees as she inhaled large gulps of air through her mouth. When she heard no reply she turned to face the boy. Kieran was slumped against the hard stone wall, sweat pouring down his forehead and chin. Because of the cold air that surrounded them, Kieran's breath came out in fogging hot clouds. His face was flushed a deep pink that stretched from his cheeks down to his neck. Head rolling forwards, he let himself fall. Norah's hands fastened themselves under his arms as he tumbled, holding his face to her neck.</p><p>Her arms wrapped securely around his shoulders, shaking his body a little, trying to determine if he had truly fainted — or if he was just on the verge of it. He was crying, breathing fast, eyes reddening and searching hers.</p><p>"I-I'm so sorry — I don't know what's happening". Kieran sobbed into her shoulder. There is a tenseness to his muscles that made him feel more like a mannequin in her embrace than a boy of flesh and bone.</p><p>Norah gently rubbed her hand across the poor boys back. The sudden anxiety that something was at the end of the cold, damp and pitch-black tunnel was crippling, her stomach twisting and turning sickly that she could almost taste the vile vomit in her mouth. She half expected to see two large lights for eyes peering through the darkness at the end of the tunnel watching both of them. She had decided to grip under Kieran's armpits and lift his body along with her own — it was as if Kieran was a very large and lazy cat in need of lifting. He moaned in complaint trying to push himself back down to the damp rock below, but Norah wasn't having any of it.</p><p>"Kieran we <em>need</em> to keep moving, we've got to get to a safe place before he decides to break those chains if he even can. . ." Norah tried again to lift Kieran from the ground and on his feet. Although she was once again stopped by his weight pulling against hers.</p><p>She could tell from the miserable expression plastered on his face that he must have been in pain right now. But he needed to keep moving, she would let him rest once they met up with Mitch and the others. Unfortunately, Norah had barely any medical knowledge and lacked the understanding of Kieran's condition to properly help him. To make matters worse it was not as if Mitch, Lucas or Evelyn had much medical experience either. If only Strain had been sent down here, perhaps then he could have helped Kieran. Norah trusted the Doctor, even if his conversations did extend into long passionate rants about his, 'experiments' and chemical formulas. There was a dubious distinction in his slow speech, his voice calm and controlled one minute then a screeching pitch higher the next.</p><p>His speech normally varied, and regularly came out as if he had a grass reed for a tongue. Susan had ordered Norah never to enter Strain's lab unless specifically told to, specifically by her that is. She didn't have the foggiest idea why, Strain might be a bit... off when it came to acting like a normal person, but he wouldn't hurt anyone in the mansion; Norah was sure of it. Granted, Strain had frightened her as a child. Actually, frightened would be an understatement, he'd terrified her.</p><p>She'd be tucked into bed, the blanket right up to her chin, and hear laughter. The cackling was never loud, nor was it close enough to Norah's room to give her the impression that Strain was outside her door, with his fingernails tapping at the wood as a sort of crude request for entry. Not as if the sound didn't give her nightmare fuel though. But it did go on, for hours sometimes. And being too full of fear to call anyone for attention. She'd start to cry. From her lack of sleep and the pent up frustration that her six-year-old body was experiencing, she cried restlessly until someone came to her room. It was normally Imani, her face peeking in the crack of the door with motherly concern.</p><p>"What's the matter?" She'd sit on the bed. Imani's voice was much sweeter and gentler than Strain's. It almost blocked out the sound of the laughter. Almost.</p><p>Her long fingers would curl around Norah's chubby red face, wiping away the tears with a delicate touch. A good quality of Imani's was her unbreakable patience. Being extremely helpful when Norah threw a temper tantrum.</p><p>Norah was too scared to voice the source of her sleep deprivation. Afraid that Imani might shout at her for being too childish. But she'd never do that. The dark-skinned beauty was too gentle and understanding. But that didn't mean that she could dismiss the possibility of her shouting at her. It took Norah a good few minutes of awkwardly wiping away dry tears and avoiding Imani's expression before she finally spoke. "Can't sleep."</p><p>The woman immediately understood. Face wincing from the distant chirping of Strain's laughter throughout the walls. She knew something. Something that Norah didn't. Her innocence kept her safe from any suspicious behaviour that the immortals around her might possess. It was difficult, but Imani had held her head up and let a smile bloom. Leaning down she planted a long kiss to Norah's forehead and plumped up the pink pillows on her bed. Back then her room had been a treasure trove of children's books, stuffed toys, and enough crayons and paper to make any child jealous. She had drawn pictures of everyone in the mansion. Even Susan, who was smiling in the drawing while being surrounded by small yellow and orange flowers that looked equally as cheerful as she did. The grass had been a fresh green colour and took up most of the space on the paper. Which had taken a toll on her green crayon, but she thought it had been a worthy sacrifice. The sun was bright banana yellow that sat in the corner of the page with an unequal amount of orange rays shining down to the grass. The background was baby blue which hadn't covered the entire top part of the paper, leaving tiny patches of white left to never be filled in. </p><p>Norah had trotted into Susan's office after she'd finished her latest masterpiece and left it on the woman's desk. It had proved a challenge. As her short arms had barely managed to reach the high door handle after making sure that Susan had left to eat before sneaking into the room. In the end, she'd climbed the expensive-looking chair that had been neatly pushed under the desk and placed the drawing down. Susan must have seen the picture, though she never mentioned it, leaving Norah in a disappointed sulk that only a six-year-old could experience. Susan hadn't reacted the way that she'd wanted her to. Not like Alphard had, complimenting her art skills, pinning the drawing to her wall and engulfing Norah's small body into a warm hug, (then lifting her in the air; making whooshing air noises as they both pretended to be a superhero's).</p><p>Strain never laughed during the wee hours of the night ever again after that. He'd even sewed her a little plushie of a rabbit to make up for scaring her. Norah named him Hoppy. His fur was snowy white with a tiny pink nose and small shinning black buttons for eyes. He wore a small green waistcoat with a neatly tied red bow on his chest, slightly slanted to the left. She fell asleep every night with the rabbit in her arms, tucked close by her heart, letting the stuffed toy listen to the thumping rhythm as she slept as if he would fall asleep along with her. Funny, how she thought back on it. How random old memories can emerge from one's brain at the strangest of times.</p><p>But now was not the time to think back at memories. Norah was on a mission. What am I doing, thinking about rabbits and drawings? Her main goal was keeping Kieran and herself safe. Seeing him so weak in her arms unleashed an embarrassingly large amount of protectiveness within her. He looked at her strangely. A fixed stare. It was as if his mouth wished to speak a thousand unspoken words that no one would listen to. She wondered what those words might be. Her face reddened. Norah wanted to protect him.</p><p> </p><p>___________________________________</p><p>                           </p><p>I can feel his body against mine. His arm is stretched over my neck and shoulder. He sways through his steps. They are sluggishly long and he drags his feet through most of them. His breath comes out heavily on my skin. My hand, which was previously positioned at his side, reaches up to his face. Brushing a knuckle against his cheek, I recognise the sickly flushed colour that stains his white skin. His eyes blink open momentarily. He stares at me with a muddled expression. Trying to focus on my face, though to him I imagine that I just look like a cluster of blurry lines and shapes. Sighing against me, his eyes close again in what I can only imagine as a mix of concentration and exhaustion. The concentration was probably his inner battle with his own body desperately trying to keep himself awake.</p><p>When I walk I can only hear the sound of Kieran's breathing and the patter of dirty water falling from the spike-shaped rocks above. They resemble icicles melting in the springtime sun. It's like the cave itself is crying. But I can't hear it weep. I wonder what a cave would have to cry about? I almost stretch my head up so that my ear can better listen to the sounds around me. I know that I'll hear no sobbing. No whining or wails. But for some reason, I feel a sense of sorrow for the cave. It sounds so silly. Feeling sorry for something that isn't even alive. But, it feels like this place has seen so much, that it has felt the emotions of the people who've passed through it. I feel a sharp pang of sorrow and guilt through my heart as I wonder back to Scarvol. I think about his disfigured face pressed against my leg. His distressed screams, his hopeless whines, his broken cries. All of it makes me wonder how it had happened, how he'd ended up down here chained and damaged. I know that he attacked me, but I want to help him. If there's any chance to fix — well, 'fix' might be too much of a strong word in this case — but still, no one deserves that sort of pain. From the way he'd acted, maybe he was a person once, with dreams and ambitions. He could speak and was capable of emotion, so he wasn't like the far-fetched tales uncle Rodger had mused on about to me when I was little about, '<em>Walking corpses, husks of the men n' women they once were, they'll tear ya apart all while yer still kickin'</em>. Not for food mind you. But for ta’ delicious soul which lies within'. I should really ask him about the people who attacked the mansion the next time he visits, he knows everything there is about all types of people and creatures.</p><p>But maybe Scarvol was someone like me, and then he went mad, lost all sense of hope. It makes me shiver at the vile thought about how someone's mind can just break like that. With everything that they were just vanishing and sanity being pried apart in front of their eyes and not being able to stop it, losing any means to carry on.</p><p>We've reached a stone archway. Or at least what I assume was a stone archway. The columns and a single statue are the only complete things left, everything else has worn and crumbled - their decay the only marker of time in a place of uncounted days. The statue is of a woman. She looks to be a good seven feet tall, although it's probably just an exaggeration from the sculptor. The woman is draped in a well-fitted dress that fans out at the bottom in little frills. Unfortunately, she only possesses a single arm as the other has broken off and has probably fallen into one of those pools of slimy water. Half of her face is missing too, her left eye and cheek look wrecked. There's a large trail of mildew and moss growing from her hair. Her curly locks make her look like a proud lion showing off his mane, though this statue is of no man. She looks more like a lioness, her head raised assertively as if she could command an entire army right then and there, even if she was made of stone.</p><p>"Where we going?" Kieran's voice is rough and sharp like splintered wood. He's staring at me again. His hair falling over his flushed face. The nightgown is soaked with his sweat making to fabric stick to his back and thighs.</p><p>"To a safe place. Just rest on me, don't speak." That seemed to be enough of an answer for him. His head flopped down so fast that an audible pop of his neck reaches my ears. The sound makes me cringe. Soon we reach a door. A dark, broken door that has large scar-like marks covering its surface. Suddenly, there is a tightness in my chest, a strong force, as if something is pushing me away from whatever is on the other side of this door. The eccentric sensation crawls downwards like a scurrying spider from my chest to my stomach. Oh, oh it feels horrible. My ears are heating up. I can feel my eyes growing sore like the uncomfortable pain you get when you pick the skin from a scab and watch it bleed. I feel like I've felt this fear before. My eyes, the dream. <em>Stabbing away at your eyeball until it becomes soap-like inconsistency</em>— No, that was only a dream, it never happened, get a grip of yourself!</p><p>Beside me, Kieran's throat makes a wet gurgling sound as if he's holding in vomit there. Hearing the sound has seemingly snapped me out of my thoughts and I'm swiftly reminded of my task; getting Kieran to a safe place. Taking a deep breath of dusty air into my lungs I slam the old door open with my foot. The door swings with such a force that it crashes into the rock that holds it together. The crash causes the hinges to creak, with the door inching backwards, although it isn't a regular creaking vibration that most doors make. I know what that sounds like. No, this sounded much more like a demented and twisted laugh. Doors couldn't laugh, although this one was making a pretty good go of it. The hinges and frames quivered making a loud squeaking racket, then it gradually changes pitch, becoming a shriek of perfectly timed giggles. Instantly regretting opening the door in the first place, I can feel myself repeating the sound in my head just to make sure I heard it correctly. The worst part is, it sounded like a woman's laugh, a high pitched cackle that gives me a sense of frightening nostalgia as if I've ever heard such a nightmare-inducing sound before.</p><p>Staggering into the massive chamber I observe my surroundings. The heart of the cave system is mostly sphere-shaped, except for some jagged and rough looking edges in the ceiling. A giant curved wall stands in the middle of the chamber, though it's mostly destroyed, (the left side of the old stone being completely obliterated by something that must have been extremely agitated and dangerous, was now covered in odd plants and roots that I've never seen before, appearing that nature is acting as a large bandaid for the injured wall) I can see faint details indicating that there was once writing on the stonework. Behind the wall, I can see a mural, which gives off the impression that it somehow depicts an event that I'm sure Susan would recognise, and that I could never begin to understand even after one of her long explanations. It presents a figure of what seems to be a man, the features of his face remain unknown as they've been peeled away thanks to the advanced age of the paint.</p><p>He wears a large draped cloth around himself, as dark as the void itself, looking as cold as the entirety and emptiness of space. Above the man was an eclipsed moon, the sun rays desperately attempting to shine brighter and blind all eyes who gazed upon it. Scarlet clouds are spread out all around him, highlighting his figure. It makes him seem regal, important, powerful. The stars look more like bright optics, watching the whole affair that took place below them with curiousness. The man with no face looms over two other silhouettes, another man and a woman. They're both equally and comically smaller than the man with no face and seem to be showing gratitude for something. With the woman bringing a long piece of fabric of the man’s dark cloth to her lips, kissing it with tender innocence. In both the man and the woman's hands they hold a perplexing looking orb. It is a deep a shade of black, with smoke the colour of silver emitting from its centre.</p><p>I don't know why, but it's like the mural was never supposed to be discovered. A secret locked away, left to rot and die like everything else in the cave. A secret chamber that no one should enter, like one of the tombs in Egypt discovered by historians and archaeologists of ancient pharaohs, long dead and mummified. Presumably, there is to be a terrible curse cast upon anyone who trespasses on the sacred ground of the tomb of a pharaoh, (though it is most likely just a silly story that the locals made up to stop treasure hunters). It is strange to imagine though, thousands of years after their deaths, being so well preserved by ancient techniques and remaining in their final resting place that loyal subjects had constructed to ensure their souls were taken to the afterlife, only to be annoyingly disturbed by people with a thirst for knowledge.</p><p>No wonder I've never been allowed down here until now, it's both disturbing and riveting. Susan does always mention that human eyes aren't privileged enough to even take even one glance at a single detail of immortal artwork or finery. 'In no way, shape or form could a human ever hope to understand us. They aren't worthy, they have been given many chances, and all were wasted. Useless and disgusting bags of flesh and bone, full of ugliness. It is indeed how they have always been, since the very beginning.' I couldn't allow myself to let it show at the time, but her words had hurt me back then somewhere deep inside. The fact that Susan despises mortals so much does bring up the question of 'how did my father ever get so close to my mother in the first place?' Susan had been particularly opposed to the idea of letting Mr Strain help Kieran after his. . . incident in the forest. It took a lot of pleading and using the best puppy-eyed expression I could muster, (which doesn't usually work on her so I must have had luck in my side) before she finally gave in.</p><p>She'd been furious, no one likes making her angry if they can help it. Although sometimes it's just unavoidable as she does seem to get annoyed at almost everything anyone ever does, that doesn't include herself of course. Everything Susan has ever done, as she loves to always mentions, is, 'for the good of our race'. Alphard had once said that she only used that sentence, 'to justify how much of a bitch she is towards people'. Even now I can't argue with something so true. Thinking about it though, perhaps that's how my mother convinced Susan not to scare my father off when they first met. Perhaps she had a similar puppy-eyed expression that she only whipped out when in need of convincing someone to do something for her. Of course, I never knew my parents, but I know that they loved each other, and me, or so I've been told...</p><p>"Norah?!" A warm embrace suddenly engulfs me, no, more like completely swallows me. It is Lucas, his arms wrapping around me and rubbing his forehead against mine. Then I can hear two more voices.<br/>"Norah! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried."<br/>"Too right, shit, glad to see you in one piece." Mitch and Evelyn fuss over me as Lucas releases me from his great big bear hug.</p><p>"We're all glad to see you safe Norah." He declares, though now his pale eyes are fixated on Kieran.<br/>"Oh yippee, you brought him with you," Mitch comments sourly, the corners of his mouth sharply falling. His expression was a cocktail of disgust, distrust and hostility. Susan normally made that face it's practically the only face that I've ever seen her wear before. Somewhere underneath it though must be a kind soul, I truly believe that there is... somewhere far underneath.</p><p>"He's sick, he almost collapsed earlier — he's got a raging fever and he's struggling to breathe." I ramble to the three immortals. Evelyn and Lucas both share concerned glances while Mitch just glares at Kieran's weak body beside me; which I struggle to keep upright.</p><p>"And I bet the stuffy air down here isn't doing him much good either." Evelyn's soft-spoken voice eases my worried mood, I've failed to notice that my shoulders have been dramatically tensed for a while now. I relax the muscles in my back and stretch, hearing the pop of my spine relieves me.</p><p>"Let's put him down over here," Lucas motions to the destroyed wall covered in wildlife. The torches flicker and crack. The odd colour of the fire lights the dark and dull room a soft blue. The heat is an accepted comfort in this dank cave. There are broken wooden chairs mangled and disfigured, some burn to ash, full of thick brown cobwebs sprawled around the chamber. Overturned candlesticks made from what looks to be brass have been abandoned and carelessly tossed to the ground below the mural. They are covered in a layer of soot and now burnt away cinders. At one time, they must have been fancy things to look at. They probably had illuminated and highlighted the mural in all its mysterious glory, I wonder if the candle flames would have been the same blue as the torches?</p><p>"Water?" Kieran's hand is on my wrist.<br/>"I'm sorry I don't think much of the water down here is unpolluted enough to touch, let alone drink." I  shake my head in defeat.<br/>"I fucking hate caves!" Mitch cries out into the space of the room, making his voice echo and bounce a repeat of his words around the walls. Kieran and Evelyn flinch at the anger of Mitch's voice,(with Kieran adorably burrowing himself in my neck).<br/>"We know Mitch, we know you hate caves." Lucas deadpanned at his friend. Mitch looked around the room like he's expecting the walls to snap back at him about how they didn't enjoy being ridiculed. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately of or all of our mentalities, the walls remained quiet.</p><p>"Are you alright?" I ask Kieran to break the silence that Mitch has created with his fruitless attempt to interrogating the walls. The boy moves away from my neck and stares, bewildered as if I've grown an extra head. Then he smiles. His eyes are hazy. He leans into me and presses his boiling hot cheek to my own and lifts a finger, pressing down where my dimple should be.<br/>". . . So soft, ha! Squishy." I chuckle wholeheartedly. Whatever's wrong with him has made him very giddy and confused. I feel another finger poke my cheek. It's Evelyn. Her chapped lips open and she releases a loud whistle.</p><p>"He's right... they are squishy!" Her shoes tap against the floor through her excitement. I feel both fingers press, prod and tickle against my cheeks.<br/>"Alright, enough with the cheek squishing," Laughter bubbles in my throat leaving a pleasant heat in my stomach. Evie retracts sharply, oh, she must think I'm annoyed and that she was being a burden.<br/>Kieran is still pressed against my cheek babbling gibberish and having short outbursts of giggles fits in-between. Then his laughter gets louder, shrilling, shrieking in my ears. But it's not Kieran, no, I turn my head to see his face flushed with sickness. His mouth is closed, there is no way the sounds are coming from him. An intake of breath, is it mine? Fingers lace between Kieran's, soft, smooth and without any callouses. Wet gargling groans, spitting, it sounds like sobbing now. The laughter is sad, broken and twisted. I can hear it, the laughter through the walls. It's not like when I was younger, it gets closer. The smell of rot fills my nostrils. I gag. A name is spoken, uttered under a shaky breath, one that does not belong to me, it doesn't fit. A sob, whimpering, wanting to break away. What's happening?</p><p>"Valentina. . ."</p><p>There are bodies, but they move! They crawl out from the dark water below and scramble up the wet stone. The holes created by the collapsed floor are suddenly full of noise. The corpses are moving, but that's not possible. Uncle Rodger's stories weren't based on the truth, they were fantasy. It isn't possible, how can corpses just walk around, they're dead, aren't they? What's going on?</p><p>"What the fuck?!" Mitch cries out, his dagger suddenly in hand. The appearance of the dead bodies skin is dark and stretched. Covered in dirt and grime. One starts sprinting, it's coming towards me. Every time it takes a step the sound of its rigid limbs crunch like twigs being crushed under a boot. A broken sword is raised high in its hand — too damaged to be dubbed a lethal weapon — but still sharp enough to pierce through the skin. The corpse lets out a shriek. I can't think. Only act. Shielding Kieran's body with my own I brace for the swing of the sword.</p><p>Yet all I feel is a tiny slash on the side of my neck. I'm not dead? I open my eyes. The corpse is yanked away from his attack by Lucas. His fingers fisting through the corpses rags and pulling it towards him. It stumbles. He swings his foot into the undead man's knee, causing it to drop the sword and plunge to the ground. Mitch appears from behind Lucas — he must have been using the big guy as a shield — and lodges his dagger through the back of the corpse's nape and its mouth. I can see the tip of the blade, covered in coppery blood sticking out of his decayed lips. What little teeth it has left bite down, I suppose in an attempt to snap the dagger in half. But to no avail. My stomach tightens. Stinking sweat drips from my armpits and back, even though I haven't even moved. I feel washed-out like I've just been sick.</p><p>The dagger is twisted out of the corpse's nape and then imbedded in its skull for the killing blow. My heart is racing. Adrenaline kicks in. I press my palm to the cut on my neck where the sword had just skimmed over my flesh. It burns, but it's not unbearable.</p><p>"Any ideas to what the fuck is going on?!" Mitch jerks the dagger from the corpse's skull making a loud squelching sound. The hole in his head is a disgusting mess of broken skull, torn flesh and gushing blood.</p><p>"Beats me!" Lucas yells back elbowing another undead creature in the face causing it to sway and fall through the opening in the floor that it crawled out from.</p><p>"It doesn't make any sense. Susan sent us down here when those cult freaks started attacking the mansion. Guess she forgot to mention that there were going to be undead fuckheads down here to keep us company!" Mitch was wild, I've never seen anyone kill another person before... even if they were a reanimated corpse. To think they were once people...I feel so sick...</p><p>"You got another dagger?" Lucas calls out to his friend as the corpses start to surround them.</p><p>"If I did I'd already be using it by now!" Mitch hollers back. This isn't good, we're all outnumbered. I don't know what to do. Evelyn yelps and just barely dodges a small axe being hurled by one of the undead men. My heart feels like it's going to explode. I think of when she first arrived at the mansion. Blood under her fingernails, Alphard's coat draped around her small body, scared, frightened, terrified. She deserves better. She deserves a friend. I'll help her.</p><p>My eyes dart around — the brass candlestick! Heavy. A weapon. Can't fail. I'm clutching around it before I can even feel how cold it is against my flesh. The soot smells like the coal Imani uses for the fireplaces, turning my white palms pitch black. It's heavy. But I have to protect them. The weight of the action terrifies me. Lungs aching, skin hot and my muscles shaking. Dots dance erratically around my eyes, it's not real, it's not a person anymore. It isn't alive anymore! A loud crunch echoes and bounces around the walls of the chamber.</p><p> </p><p>What have I done?</p><p> </p><p>The corpse slumps to the ground. What have I done? Something wet covers my hands. I don't dare look down, I can't. I know what it is. It's warm, why is it warm? I've killed someone. Please, I'm so sorry.<br/>I feel sick...</p><p>Skeletal fingers curl around my ankle, the corpse groans. Trying to breathe is difficult, I suck some air through my mouth but my teeth are clenched tightly shut. I try and pull away, but the grip, despite how weak the hand looks, is strong and firm. Please don't. Mitch struggles as he and Lucas are swarmed by the undead. The torches seem to dim, the chamber becomes darker. The grunts from the corpses seem even louder now.</p><p>"Motherfucker!" Lucas' knuckles are severely bruised now. His fists mercilessly beat against the corpses bloated faces, dark yellow and a sickly green underneath the layer of old watery blood. There's no mercy in my swings, they aren't people anymore, it shouldn't matter how they die. The sound of the candlestick bashing against the corpses head sounds like soft fruits being stomped on slowly turning to juice and slush.</p><p>Thump!</p><p>Thump!</p><p>Thump!</p><p>Using the endless adrenaline rushing through my veins the candlestick is continuously thrashed against the undead man's head.</p><p>Thump!!</p><p>Thump!!</p><p>The candlestick halts, but not by my hand. A wet groan hits the back of my neck hotly and the candlestick is snatched from my hands. One of the corpses had come up from behind me. Hidden by the shadows of the chamber it clutches the weapon that I had used to beat one of its own with and a flash of white blinds me. It's cold, at first there's nothing. No pain in my neck where the skin was cut, or the adrenaline like hot lava mixed in with my blood, or even the soreness in my knee. Am I dead? If I am then Marlon's painted a very false picture of everyone being taken up to the afterlife by an angel while your face gets to rest in her holy bosom.</p><p>Then splitting pain. It rakes up from my head to my arms then down to my ankles. It's like I'm being burned from the inside out. Like an iron clamp tightening around my skull trying to pop out my brain. The pressure builds and builds and builds. There's something damp on my face. It pours downwards over my eyelids and eyelashes. Sounds are muffled, faint, muted. I can't hear it. There's no way I can lift my arms. Am I paralysed? Something had hit my head. What happened?<br/>I can feel the vibrations of footsteps around me. My eyes open.</p><p>Someone's staring at me. The blood flows thick and sluggish from his mangled mushy brain and smashed bone. Our faces, or what once was his face are inches apart. I spot maggots, flecks of doughy white nestled and wriggling within mangled flesh, feverishly squirming into chunks of gore. They must have been inside the corpse even before... before what? The stench is rancid. A big waft of it fills<br/>my nose. My gut lurches, and a churning mixture of digestive fluids with yesterday's dinner along with today's breakfast fills my mouth. I'm too weak to behold my work. My work?</p><p>The candlestick, it had to be done. You know it did. Squelching and wet the sounds make my ears tingle.</p><p>I hadn't even noticed that the grip around my ankle had let go with the first two swings of the candlestick. It had let go, it had been dead, yet I'd kept swinging. I kept beating it mercilessly 'till its head was nothing but fleshy pink pulp. And for what? The corpse hadn't been a threat any longer, but I was just so angry. It's too much, too loud, can't breathe. Why has it felt so right? Fingers blindly search across the surface of the ashen floor. Then they catch on something.</p><p>The chamber is suddenly and painfully filled with blue light. With the torches flaring wildly my body feels a burst of energy coarse though it. Hot, scorching, ablaze like the fire surrounding me. It needs to be let out, released, untangled from the knot. I cling to the handle of the object that's been half-buried in the ash and dust for far too long. The sudden brightness of the blue flames reveals a large pommel, far bigger than my whole hand and the elegant carvings of a bird that's etched into the hilt. It feels right to hold it. It feels safe to have it so close to me. But why? Not that I've ever seen something so beautiful before in my life. . . yet I'm so undoubtedly drawn to it. I need to see all of it. The undead groans in confusion, their eyes lock on to what I hold in my hand. I had assumed them blind. In life perhaps their eyes were every shade the sky possessed from dawn until dusk. In death they are black. Their pupils have exploded into an unhealthy mess. I want them to blink, I shiver with unease when they don't. I don't even think it's necessary for them. Their eyes are so still. The corpses actual bodies were still moving, but their eyes remained in the same place and never seemed to shift. They had to move their whole forms and tilt their heads down just to look at what I'm clutching.</p><p>I notice that they are frozen in place like revolting looking statues, the cold dead hands that I'd felt for myself only moments ago were twitching to move. They were so close to me. Now I see that arms are stretched out to reach me. They would have pulled, crushed and broken my limbs until they tore me apart. But they stopped. Mere inches away from me. I take advantage of the situation even though I'm not quite sure what the situation is.<br/>With every last bit of strength that I have left inside of me, I haul the handle of the object until it swings upwards into the air above me. The fire is hot all around, burning so bright and forceful that it's near- blinding. The object that I've thrust into the sickly smelling air of ash and rot is a sword. And it looks magnificent, shining in the glow of the flames as if it were fashioned from the very essence of all magic. Strong flashes and bursts of a great energy slice through the cursed atmosphere as if the chamber is being cleansed by a holy source.</p><p>The undead monsters growl and hiss. Retracting from the sword as if it were a great and foul sin. The air feels heavy, pins and needles in my feet, blood drying in my hair. Behind me, the crumbling wall begins to reform. Swirling magic burning like my skin when I've been out in the sun too long, lifts the fallen debris from the wall and carefully pieces it all back together. I ogle the scene slack-jawed and breathless. The fallen pieces hover into the air slotting into the puzzle to finish the resulting masterpiece. The cracks on the stone fade away similarly to how a scar would on skin. The magic thrums like an instrument being strummed by a professional musician.</p><p>Now, the wall is complete, the vines and roots that covered it have sprung to life healthy and strong. Pale beauties like snowflakes on my tongue in winter, the flowers blooming so fast before the world forgets them and moves on. A swirling whirlpool in the centre of the wall, buzzing like a busy beehive, I don't want to touch it in fear that I'll get stung, but what lies within temps me; a sweet honey paradise and a better place than here.</p><p>"Norah come on!" A voice calls out to me over the relaxing music of the sword. Like a heartbeat in my ears, it soothes me. But the voice calls, the voice is real. Evelyn reaches out to me, her worried big eyes stare at the blood on my forehead.</p><p>"We've got to go!" Yes, leaving would be a good idea, the sword tells me so. Lucas throws Kieran over his shoulder and sprints towards portal in the wall. Mitch limps off behind him after cursing up a storm and convincing Lucas that he was, 'fucking fine'.<br/>Evelyn's forehead is pressed to my bloody one, her hands cup my cheeks. Her chapped lips quiver.<br/>"Please move, Norah." Her voice small, pleading, helpless.</p><p>
  <em>Her clothes are torn, wet hair from the rain outside. It was October, and storms were a normal occurrence at that point. There had been particularly bad weather that year, Imani told me it meant fate was soon to crush someone's spirit. Of course, I hadn't believed her. Unfortunately, the girls hair had been unevenly shaved off, like the person who'd done it had been trying to shear a sheep rather than cut human hair. Alphard's coat was comically large around her little body, although it looked warm and comfortable, the girl still shook to the point where it looked painful. Alphard had her hand around the girl's shoulder, rubbing her thumb up and down the nape of her neck. Bruised, bloodied and alone, she looked as if she'd seen the worst that the world had to offer. Susan appeared from the living room and the muscles in her jaw twitched.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Her name is Evelyn, she's staying with us from now on." Alphard looked Susan dead in the eyes. And the decision was finalised.</em>
</p><p>The sword lowers and the light starts to fade. Evelyn chokes out a laugh and intertwines our hands. The undead recovers from their statue-like state and are hot on our tails. Before we enter the portal, however, the mural behind the walls seems to glow. The stars are bright and mysterious. And despite the dimming light of the chamber, I can just make our two large golden pupils watching us both disappear.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay new chapter! Things are getting interesting I hope. Life’s have been rough lately so I don’t know when the next chapter will be out. Rest assured I am working on it! If I’ve missed any mistakes let me know! Stay safe everyone! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. In The Blue Of The Afternoon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The yard half a yard,<br/>half a lake blue as a corpse.<br/>The lake will tell things you long to hear:<br/>get away from here.<br/>Three o'clock. Dry leaves rat-tat like maracas. </p><p>Whisky-colored grass<br/>breaks at every step and trees<br/>are slowly realizing they are nude.<br/>How long will you stay?<br/>For the lake asks questions you want to hear, too.</p><p>Months have passed since, well,<br/>everything. Since buildings stood<br/>black against sky, rain hissed from sidewalks<br/>and curled around you.<br/>O, how those avenues once seemed menacing! </p><p>I know what you miss<br/>sings this lake. Car horns groaning<br/>in rush hour. Sweet coffee. Wind<br/>pounding like hammers. Warmth of a lover.<br/>Crickets humming love songs to the street.</p><p>— Deborah Ager</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing she noticed was that her face was pleasantly cold. Relaxing into it was easy enough; sweat on her back, sticky, salty and hot. The sedation made her fingers twist into the grass. Tranquillising moisture blotted her face leaving steaks of water smeared across sun-kissed cheeks — similarly to ink staining a page. She was certain she had no feeling in her toes. Although little did she care. Her toes were useless at present, commanding her brain to wiggle them seemed as much of a challenge as forcing a tiger run through a flaming hoop.</p><p>The journey through the wall left her eyes sore under their lids; the light sharp like needles against her body. Scorching flesh cooling, silent beads of moisture descending like raindrops from the heavens, wheezing breaths relaxing into strong exhales; for there was no danger present and for a moment they could all breathe. Calm, it was calm, good. She felt like she should be here but why? She'd never entered the realm, never, her connection to it must be a falsehood. A side effect from the fever she was undoubtedly going to get. There <em>was</em> no connection. Then why did such a foreign land speak to her soul like no other? Deeply touch her in a welcoming embrace like greeting an old friend after being years apart.</p><p>Luminescence shone brightly. Enough that it emitted sound, almost a song, which called and pulled until she gave in. A hymn — and a holy sound it was, though it burned like righteous fire it guided her through the pathway they had run. Deciding on a decision had turned into a quarrel. At a crossroad of sorts, trees tall and stout stretched out in all manner of colour. In shades that trees should not usually possess. Despite all that, and the mystery of their destination, the seemingly endless fear of the undead men did nothing to soothe their drumming heartbeats; echoes of a savage band of soldiers marching towards the battlefront, primal music shaking the ground with songs that made both the living and the dead weep.</p><p>A turquoise-blue stream wound its merry way through the forest. The waterfall appeared magical. Swishing over the rocks joyfully. Thundering down into the pool like a gigantic water spout. When it toppled into the ecstasy-pool, it foamed and splashed at the bottom. The rest of the pool was as clear as glass, enabling all eyes to peer down into the rocky bottom. Fronds of forest-green plants waved gently in the depths. The waterfall resembled a sheet of sapphire velour as it swished down. Its edges hemmed with whipped-pale lines.</p><p>Berries and chanterelles adorn the forest floor, questing for sunlight. The sky buckled with clouds and they flare-up in a radiant neon-blue when the mood takes them. The forest floor is laden with goldenrod-yellow flowers and silver-washed fritillaries all carrying their abundance of pollen carefully. A goulash of scents twirl above the satin-soft petals and the pear sweet taste of the air is a blessed joy. The abundant pink blossoms, held in clusters of three to six flowers spread out in bunches. Along with creamy-white coloured florescence nestled amongst the trees, resembling the greenish-yellow court robes worn in an emperor's palace.</p><p>Delicate knuckles which had steered clear of the sufferings of any manual labour caressed her forehead, timidly, afraid she'll be bitten. Evelyn brought her nails up to her lips and peels away a piece of flaking skin, flicking it to the ground.<br/>
"Are you ok?" She asked, softly, "You went sick a little after we came out of that portal, then fell unconscious." Norah slid her tongue over the roof of her mouth tasting the bitterness the vomit had left behind. A pressure in her gut made her swallow, the sensation a familiar warning from when she was<br/>
bed-bound with sickness, empty bowl at her side with an acidic aroma in the air.</p><p>"Is everyone alright?" Norah did a once-over on Evelyn, checking for any injuries.<br/>
"Mitch is tending to Lucas' hands. They aren't looking too good." Fists pounding into bloated face's, his movements awkward and slow like a dancing bear. She remembered the creature that had hit her on the head. A single hand had been mangled and his right bicep chewed away exposing the white humerus beneath. He had been scalped by some failed attempt to slay him and as he drew each rattling breath he made a low growling moan that chilled her blood.</p><p>"Norah?" Evelyn offered some comfort, a hand to the side of her head. She paused midway through the action — reminding herself of Norah's injury — and retracted the hand away. Nervously, she locked her fingers together, the tips of her nails transforming into milky white from the pressure — burrowing into her flesh entirely ruining the solace of the anxious habit. Evelyn had to resist the want to chew on her nails and lip, so she found herself gnawing on the inside of her cheek. Biting hard, the taste of blood lingered on her tongue.</p><p>"Just thinking . . ." Norah tried and failed to come up with another topic of discussion. What could she talk about except what she'd had just experienced — what they'd all experienced? Evelyn would listen. She was different now, or so she told herself, though not much about her has changed.</p><p>"What happened down there Evie? What were those things? Where even are we?" Ranting with hitching breaths in-between each sentence led to her face reddening. Further through Norah's life, she would look back on this moment with no fondness. Before she killed for the first time, or what she’d perceived as a living being though the man had already been dead, the worst thing she'd done was trample over a small field mouse by accident. She longed for that innocence again. With the notion that killing a mouse was the worst crime imaginable and not having a man's blood still stain your hands after so many years had passed. She had hope though, that one day she'd be able to accept what she did. That it was <em>necessary</em> not only for her survival but for her friends too.</p><p>She wished she could take it back. In the beginning, they all do. You feel trapped in a cage, like a bird with a crippled wing. Even if you escape the cage what freedom is there? You cannot fly — you are too damaged to leave even when the door is wide open, beckoning you to take a leap. Why step back into the world? You are changed and will never be the same, why would anyone accept such an imposter back into their lives? Norah's head swam with such thoughts. </p><p>“And what I did. I <em>killed</em> one of them, Evie. Why didn't I just stop!?" This was an important moment in Norah's life, she just didn't know it yet. Despite the disgust she felt for her actions what truly numbed her was that for the smallest of moments down in that black hole filled with corpses, she had enjoyed bashing that man's brains in. His blood covering her from head to toe. 'What's the matter with me?' She wondered. She was stained — stained with the hideous colour of his blood. On her skin and under her nails like some wild animal after a hunt. Covering her eyes her sight was engulfed in the shade she now loathed. The smell of metallic liquid, ruby-red against flesh would never leave her. But this blood failed to hold the magnificence of a ruby — brightly shining in the sunlight. This was no expensive gem to gaze at with admiration. No purity could be found in such an unsightly display of wasted life.</p><p>Feeling a warm and awkward embrace made her breath hitch. She felt little again, curled up in bed listening to Strain cackle like a madman. This feeling of fear was familiar in the most uncomfortable of ways. Her hands wrapped themselves loosely around Evelyn's waist, sniffling when she felt the scarlet on her cheeks intermingle with the tears she shed.</p><p>"I'm not sure what to say," Evelyn whispered lowly as if her comfort would lead to punishment, "But I know that it's never easy the first time, that's when the regret comes in and you start blaming yourself." Norah felt as if she had no voice to answer her friend with, feeling more than a little pathetic. A wet row of coughs caused Norah to turn — still in Evelyn's comforting embrace. "Don't cry, I know it seems awful now but it gets better — gets easier." Her face was hot with embarrassment, perspiration slick on her neck as their embrace tightened. Her cries loud enough to disturb the peace of the forest, Norah shook with such tenacious force as if she'd never be able to move again. '<em>I don't want it</em>,' she chanted — hands at her head drowning out the sounds. Slice of dead meat reverberated in her ears, echoing into her brain, bouncing into her thoughts.</p><p>"I-I don't want it to get easier — please! — don't make me do it again." Evelyn hushed her, rocking them both as Norah wept in her arms.<br/>
"It's alright, you didn't murder anyone." She couldn't believe her words. How had this happened? Could she have stopped it? Had there been a chance to avoid conflict and she'd ruined it, nearly causing the death of her friends in the process? There must have been another way, another. . . She just wanted the shaking to go away. It was all her fault.</p><p>Kieran sat slumped underneath a tree beside the lake; his sallow complexion worried her to no end.  Staring back at Evelyn, then towards Mitch and Lucas, her friend seemed to understand.<br/>
"We're ok for now — go to him, I think you both need someone." Norah's hands clenched into Evelyn's shirt as she tried to pull away. "It's alright I'll only be over there, you see? I have to take a look at Lucas’ knuckles. Mitch doesn’t know the first thing about tending to wounds, he’s probably messed up something by now." Reluctantly, Norah let go, making her way carefully towards Kieran. Her whole body still trembled with slight twitches. Walking slowly towards him, she felt the wound on her knee sting at her sudden jerking movements. Kieran's eyes opened at the sound of footfalls and that's when he saw her. One side of her head caked with blood, drying in her hair causing knots to clumps to stick together. It was safe to say she looked a mess.</p><p>He shifted while dragging his nail across his neck, scratching lightly.<br/>
"Are you alright?" A stupid, stupid question to ask as he could clearly see the way she tried to hide her shaking hands. He was ashamedly ready to ask her forgiveness for being so damn useless back in that cave. Watching her be beaten down by those things made him feel weaker than he’d ever had in his entire life. All those years of being coddled by his relatives and teachers because of his health and small stature led to an expectation that he'd forever stay a little boy in the eyes of his peers. All that talk from his father about being a man and to stand against the world hadn't made things any better. Because he was his son, Kieran was expected to be a hard-ass who wouldn't take shit from anybody. How disappointed his father must have felt when his only son turned out frail and small, with not a fraction of courage to compete with his own.</p><p>"Are <em>you</em>?" Her gaze directed downwards. The makeshift bandage was stained with filth which made her knee itch to remove it.<br/>
"I. . . suppose not. I mean it all just sounds so insane, doesn't it? I keep thinking this is all some sick fever dream and that I'll wake up any second." Bluebirds twittered contently only to fall silent, disturbed by Lucas' loud growl of pain. Evelyn struggled to keep her friend's mangled knuckles under the water of the lake. Mitch exclaiming that he was, '<em>one hell of a big ass baby</em>.'</p><p>"I know none of this makes any sense to you," her laughter was shrill sounding like she was on the verge of hysteria, "I knew there was something they were hiding from me but this? How was there so much right underneath my feet?" His throat tightened and he fisted the grass to withhold another painful coughing fit, "Honestly a heads up would have been pretty helpful." She shuffled next to him, resting her head against the tree bark, relaxing at the sound of bubbling ripples of water. There was a soft warm wind blowing life into the trees, great long arms quaking and waving. It made Norah nauseous. It might have been beautiful under other circumstances. But it was too much, so bright, loud, and wild, the bark shifting to close in on her. Alongside her, Kieran felt the breeze kiss the shells of his ears. '<em>Pretend the whispers aren't there</em>,' he told himself and made an oath never to tell anyone about what the snaky limbs of the trees told him.</p><p>"How's your head?" He asked her. She frowned and a crease came between her eyebrows, he wanted to move his thumb across it and watch it smoothen away. He thought against it.<br/>
"My head?" He nodded and plucked bits of dirt and grime from her hair. The pain came back to her and she flinched, muscles twitching at the memory of sensation, creating a dull simulation. The birds let out another song, whistling this time but in a slow and sad tone — she took in long noisy breaths to drown it out. Some of the birds began to scatter. His hand reached out for hers. There was blood squashed and painfully dry, stretching the skin under both their fingernails, smelling of earth and rot. The dried red on her palms felt like leather against his. There is no warmth to be found. He let out another cough, air breaking free to escape his lungs which felt wet and cold. He sobs defeatedly, letting his head rest on the uncomfortable trunk of the tree. She tightened her hold on his hand with her thumb rubbing across his knuckles. They spoke no words. Even though they barely knew each other, they didn't need to explain but only feel held. Her head rested on his shoulder. She answered him finally, "It hurts."</p><p>Kieran's huffed a laugh, eyelids closing for a long moment, then opening again, revealing red where white should be.<br/>
"Where are we?" He murmured tiredly squeezing his eyes to reduce the burning. Norah searched for any clues, no signs or maps, no buildings or roads, wherever they were it was remote and quiet.<br/>
"Not a clue, definitely not home. It's got to be . . . somewhere else."<br/>
"Wherever we are it sure is pretty. Like no one’s ever been here." The bluebirds chatter and hop around from branch to branch. Happy in their homes. Norah tightened her hold on Kieran's hand, jealousy was an awful feeling, but expressing jealousy towards birds? A whole new low. Their tiny beaks snapped, gossiping amongst themselves, one let out a strident sort of sound, then one by one, the others joined in. They were laughing at her, at them, Norah shivered. She sunk lower down the tree and into the grass.</p><p>Mitch and Lucas bickered not too far from them —<br/>
Mitch suggesting that, "At least here has a better view than that fucking bastard cave. Nothing to get my foot stuck in."<br/>
Kieran stretched his legs from their cramped position, cringing at the sound of his knees popping.<br/>
"It feels like we're trespassing just by being here. Like we were never meant to find this place." On further inspection, the flowers he’d previously observed were far too colourful, vibrant, and perfectly positioned together. They were beautiful. But he felt strange, like the stems would come to life and wrap themselves around him, flourishing tentacles oozing the sweet poison of temptation. It was like the whispering forest, he reminded himself, although he wished so badly to forget. The warning he read must have gone unnoticed by so many as the stone had been slowly sinking into the dirt. Perhaps it was not time that had swallowed the stone into the earth, but the forest itself.</p><p>"The flowers — what flowers are they? They almost look good enough to eat, like pretty frosting on a cake." Norah's eyes squinted as she giggled.<br/>
"Please tell me you aren't hungry enough to start eating the plants?" He smiled.<br/>
"Mm, probably not — buttercream would be nice though, can make a lot for a cake with buttercream." He thought about the handful of times he'd made cake; smooth icing on top of bouncy sponge, sweet cream sitting snugly in the centre, hiding like a secret, "A bowl of fruit would be good too. Strawberry’s maybe — no mango, definitely." His stomach grumbled, straining to be filled with the fruit he longed for.</p><p>"What's a mango?" Norah asked him, and he suppressed the urge to gasp.<br/>
"You've never had one?" She shook her head. Her fingers running against each other hurriedly, afraid that she'd asked something stupid.<br/>
"What's it taste like?"<br/>
"It's sort of tastes tropical, floral even, although mû qīn says they're more citrusy and tart." He thought about his mother, cheap perfume, fake furs, hiding away on the tiny veranda.</p><p>He felt sorry for her if anything. She'd always talk about her old life in Taiwan. ‘<em>When I was young and beautiful, I used to be something you know? We were rich — we had the finest clothes — and we went to the theatre every week. I loved to act, it was my passion, the wealthy men used to come and see me you know? Yes, they used to flock around me just to tell me how magical my performance was. We had such fun under the red stage lights</em>.' He knew it was a lie. She had been somewhat of an actress back in her youth that much was true. And the expensive portraits of herself that she'd kept after they moved country were some proof that she truly had come from a well-off family. But her stories got harder and harder for him to believe as the years went by. His father had stopped listening a long time ago.</p><p>"I'd like to taste one, where can you get them?" Norah asked, letting her hands relax for a moment.<br/>
"Well, we mostly get them from the supermarket or stalls." She perked up excitedly.<br/>
"I've never been to a supermarket. But Marlon says they're very big, loud too." He did not speak for a moment. Had these people deliberately isolated her from the rest of the world? If so, it was no wonder she stared at him with such fascination — her excitement only held back by whatever manners she'd been taught by the people she lived with. Did she have parents? What reason did they have for sheltering her? He wanted to ask, question her until his curiosity was sedated. But he held back. He realised that he was as curious about her as she was about him.</p><p>They both came from different worlds, her mind untouched by the filth of life, as she has never been brought face to face with the terrible crimes that occur every day. She wanted to explore, to find and learn, to understand everything she’d been denied. They were both very different. He'd known from a young age what his life would eventually become. He could see it now, living in a world cut off from reality, accepting a lie to cope with each passing day. He could see himself becoming what his mother now is. Deluded, reliving days that she could never return to. Kieran felt as if his birth broke something inside of his mother. Of course, he did not doubt that she loved him, but he couldn't stand living a life like that. It made him feel sick. This was what life had done to his mother, and he knew it would leave him in the same damaged state as it did her. He almost envied Norah for dreaming that it might be worth fighting for.</p><p>"Have you ever been. . . outside that forest?" He swallowed. She frowned and felt for the wound on her head, flinching as her fingers reached the skin.<br/>
"I'm not allowed, Susan says it's dangerous with all the humans running around trying to kill each other." Her comment sounded so innocently sweet and nonchalant that it made him shudder. Who were these people? He was desperate to ask now, about who she was, or more importantly, what was she. Words like, '<em>Human</em>', and, '<em>Mortal</em>' boggled his mind to no end. He felt another headache coming on, thinking about it made his brain pound and strain as it attempted to understand what he'd just been through. What he'd seen shouldn't have been possible, corpses, portals, cursed forests? It was beyond the bounds of possibility. Deciding not to press seemed like a good idea — after all, he wasn't sure he could completely trust these people. Norah perhaps, well he didn't exactly trust her — but she had saved his life when he'd collapsed in the forest. He reminded himself that they were on even terms now, as he'd saved her from that creature down in the caves. Seeing her be dragged away, screaming for help, it was too much. He hated screaming. It's why the television would always be loud when his parents argued. But he wouldn't ask her yet, too many questions seemed dangerous.</p><p>"You look like you’re miles away. C’mon I feel filthy, with all this blood, let's go and wash up." Linking arms, they both hobbled to the edge of the water. Kieran took in the view, filling his lungs with the perfumed scent of blooming flowers and ripening fruits. Sweet as it was, it was thick in the air and felt suffocating at times; like whatever fragrance his mother wore when she decided to go out. They both sat on the soft moss below, dunking their faces in the cool liquid. The reservoir provided a colourful reflective glow of blues and greens, the willing canvas of mountain and sky. Kieran took massive gulps of water, cupping it into his hands as if it was the rarest luxury on earth. Norah waited until he'd had his fill then proceeded to scrub her hair clean of the clotted blood that had dried upon her scalp.</p><p>“The best thing we can do is find shelter. Maybe there’s a village or town near here,” Evelyn glanced at the bright sun, noticing that it was not yet the afternoon, “As long as we still have daylight we should be safe to travel.” Mitch turned to look at her and motioned for her to approach.<br/>
“<em>Sorry — but are we just going to ignore the fact that some mysterious sword sent us ass first into the immortal realm? How can a sword even do something like that?</em>” He whispered in her ear. Lucas hoisted himself from the rock he’d been sat on and pushed into the hushed conversation.<br/>
“<em>The sword’s twice Norah’s size. Looks like it could cut a cow in half with one swing no problem. How’d she even lift it?</em>” Lucas leaned an arm against Mitch’s shoulder. Evelyn watched the two children by the water, the boy nervously said something to her and Norah gasped out a laugh then shook her head. She was still a child, Evelyn thought to herself, she was grateful that despite what she had seen, there was a chance to bounce back as children sometimes did.</p><p>“<em>I suppose everyone knew she she was capable of something. . . you’ve heard about what her mother was?</em>” Mitch shrugged, eyeing the sword on the ground as it sat innocently in the grass.<br/>
“<em>Dunno, I was never much for all that fairytale shit. Kept my head down and tried to avoid the fanatics.</em>”<br/>
Lucas had to agree with his friend; he recalls the air smelling of the incense around the churches during the mornings when the bells would ring, then in the afternoons — the sky became the colour of heretics burning in piles as their families wailed and screamed, chocking on the swirling smoke, then in the nights. . . he fought desperately to forget what the churches did during the nights.<br/>
“<em>Should we really tell her — I mean it’s not our place is it? Shouldn’t it be Imani? She’s one of the higher ups and can probably explain it better than us</em>.” Evelyn picked at the skin of her lips nervously.<br/>
“<em>And she’s been through so much today. We don’t want to overwhelm her — you remember how we were when we killed for the first time</em>.” Mitch scowled at her comment.<br/>
“<em>It’s not like she really killed anyone, those fuckers were already dead</em>.” Evelyn swatted his head.<br/>
“<em>But she doesn’t know that, she doesn’t see it the way we do. Look, maybe we don’t tell her anything about the sword until after we get home</em>.” Mitch grumbled lightly and folded his arms, searching the sky for any signs of chimney smoke that might lead to civilisation.<br/>
“<em>You mean if we get home. We can’t exactly go back the way we came — the wall’s smashed to bits after we fell through it</em>.”</p><p>Norah tucked her hair into the collar of her shirt and felt the damp strands stick to her sore shoulder blades, sighing contently as the cool droplets raced down her hot back. Kieran sat in the sun with a belly full of liquid, dipping his toes into the lake’s surface. She followed suit, removing her shoes and socks then placing them gently on the grass. Her toes stretched out, feet diving down into the refreshing water and then back up again into the beam of the hot sun above.<br/>
“You look like you’ve drank half of the lake,” both children chuckled, the awkwardness they had previously felt long forgotten. “You must have needed it.” He shifted slightly as their feet brushed against each other mid surface.<br/>
“I get attacks sometimes — usually they aren’t serious. But if I’m not too careful I can start suffocating, I should have had my inhaler on me, damn it.” She decided not to pry, instead she started untangling the knot on the makeshift bandage he’d provided for her.<br/>
“Thank you by the way, for this. It helped stop the bleeding before it got any worse.” She walked a few steps into the lake, feeling the smooth stones pass under her feet. Wincing at the sharp sting of her wound as the water reached her knees.<br/>
“It’s fine really, you helped me and I helped you.” She turned to face him and felt the water slosh and ripple as her body spun, the small waves gently caressing Kieran’s ankles as they traveled.<br/>
“So we’re even now? Suppose that means we’re on good terms.” His smile widened at her words and his feet momentarily made small kicks under the water with joy.</p><p>“How about we make a deal?” He asked gently.<br/>
“What kind of deal?” She perked up, making her way towards him as he thought for a moment.<br/>
“That we watch each other’s backs, like we did in the cave, so we can both end up getting home alive.” He held out his hand and waited for her answer. She hesitated, for only a moment, pursing her lips suspiciously like a bartering shopkeeper.<br/>
“What’s the catch?” He smiled and shook his head.<br/>
“No catch, I don’t want anything else, just want to get home that’s all. We can do it together maybe — only if you want to.” The sun was beaming and the lake was glittering like it was made of a thousand sparking diamonds. Her face felt warm from the golden glow and she wondered if her freckles would appear more prominently, as they usually did in the sunlight. His face was pale and lacked any sort of freckles at all, save for a lone beauty mark on his right cheek. She took his hand into hers and smiled.<br/>
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hia! I haven’t updated in a while because I’ve had to write so many damn essays, but I’ve managed to squeeze a new chapter out. Kieran and Norah are sweethearts and I’m interested in writing about their growing friendship. Next chapter will hopefully be going into more detail about the immortal realm and it’s inhabitants. Comments are appreciated to share your opinions on the story, or if you  spot any mistakes, which I’m prone to making. Stay safe! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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